darklydeliciousdesires

[darklydeliciousdesires]

THIS... WAS... PERFECT. The set up, the - pardon the pun - execution, how wonderfully you lined everything up. I just love that you gave her back to herself, if that makes sense? She isn't Luca's, she isn't Tommy's, she's just hers, and that's all she needs to be. Love that for her!! Absolutey fantastic writing, Alex! God, I'm going to feel empty when I finish this series, like I do when I've really enjoyed a great novel!

Alright, it’s the one you’ve been waiting for. The showdown between the Shelbys and the Changrettas is ON! Hold on to your hats kids because we have some DRAMA ahead! 😬 xx

Summary: The Shelbys meet with Luca and his gang to end the vendetta but things end in violence. As the dust settles, those left alive pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Major character death, scenes of violence. Bad language and one (1) racial slur. Mild refs to past domestic and sexual violence.

Word count: 5151 PART 25 | SERIES

Part 26: Endgame

You dressed slowly that morning, ensuring everything, from your freshly set curls down, was in place. You fastened the dark mulberry dress, tying the long strands of fabric into place at your neck, carefully concealing the damage of your husband’s hands. A sweep of dark red lipstick hid the still healing cut on your bottom lip.

Last night you had slept in the same bed as him for the first time in almost a month. It could be put off no longer. Mercifully, you had managed to avoid your other wifely duties, pleading sickness from the baby. You hadn’t needed to convince him - you had been sick three times the day before.

Fear and nerves of what was to come today.

He appeared behind you, hands resting lightly on your waist as he grinned at you in the mirror.

“You look beautiful, amore. That will hurt him as much as what I will take from him today.”

You forced a smile and he spun you in his arms, leaning in for a kiss.

“Careful, cucciolone,” you scolded, leaning back away from him quickly. “You’ll get lipstick on you.”

He shook his head with an indulgent smirk, cupping your face between his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead instead.

“C‘mon, principessa, it’s time.”

*****

Tommy and most of the family were waiting for you as you arrived in the same warehouse at Charlie’s yard as the day you had been kidnapped. Luca leading the way with a swagger, Matteo and the other men with their guns levelled at the Shelbys.

You followed on, next to Audrey, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. You didn’t need to look to feel Tommy’s eyes on you.

All attention shifted from you though as Michael was brought in, half dragged and having to be propped up between two men. You hadn’t seen him since the night you left the farmhouse and he looked terrible. If he had been given medical attention, as Audrey had promised, it was clearly the bare minimum to keep him alive. A bolt of hate rushed through you towards the woman who you used to trust so completely.

“Look at them,” crowed Luca in Italian, showboating for his men, enjoying his moment of victory immensely. Polly Gray’s eyes were glassy as she took in the desperate state of her son and, even more satisfyingly, Tommy looked pale, his eyes fixed on you. Luca’s chest swelled with pride at being able to administer this final, painful blow. You were his - you would always be his.

“All that’s left of the Peaky fucking Blinders,” he sneered, switching back to English.

He beckoned you forward and you had no choice but to comply. Smiling slyly, running the back of his fingers down your cheek, he flicked a glance at Tommy.

“I should thank you, Mr Shelby, for taking such good care of my wife,” he gloated, forefinger and thumb cupping your chin as he dropped his lips to yours. You curled your nails into your palm.

Chuckling quietly to himself he ran a hand over your middle and fixed Tommy with a smug stare.

“Especially since she’s expecting our second child.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Tommy’s reaction, and for all the horror of the situation, the petty part of you pleased to see him swallow harshly. How do you like a taste of your own medicine, eh Thomas, you thought.

Still chuckling to himself, Luca walked slowly towards Tommy, taking his time, staring him down. He was going to savour this moment. He paused in front of him and clicked his fingers, a man rushing forward with a bag full of legal contracts, which he began to spread across the table set out in the middle of the room. Luca drifted towards them, rubbing his chin.

“I’ve had my lawyer draw up these papers. They cover every enterprise in your possession.” He flicked lazily through the vast number of documents. “Bars, restaurants, warehouses. Every fucking thing that you’ve taken all these years to gather together, you will sign them all over to my family…” He walked back over to stand close to Tommy. “..or you’re gonna die, right here.”

Tommy met his eye and focussed on holding his face still; he refused to give him an inch.

Luca smirked, slipping a toothpick into his mouth with a flash of white teeth.

“I would have buried you all,” he growled. ”But my mother, she knows you.” He gestured at Tommy with the toothpick. “She said it’ll be worse for you if I let you live and take away everything that you have,” he cast behind him, lingering on you, “everything you love.” You stared at the floor.

Tommy studied you, in all your elegant finery. You looked how you did the first day he saw you again, in this very room. Expensive clothes and perfectly put together. But there was a brittleness to the way you held your shoulders, a darkness in your eyes when you finally met his. He could only imagine what Luca might have done to have you acquiesce to him so completely. The thought of his hands on you made his blood boil. And a baby? He hoped to fuck you were lying because the idea of you carrying another of this man’s children made him want to throw up.

But he held himself tight and still, letting the arrogant cunt have his moment.

He jerked slightly but didn’t protest as Luca reached forward and roughly opened his heavy overcoat, grabbing the gun from its usual spot under his left arm. He held it up in front of him with a smirk.

“Search ‘em,” he instructed and men approached the Shelbys as Luca made his way along the line with the cruel sneer on his lips. Arthur’s mustache was twitching with fury but Tommy’s orders had been clear - no retaliation.

Luca paused in front of Polly, holding herself together with a fierce look in her eye. She glared at him as he grinned. “Especially don’t trust this bitch,” he added, ripping open the front of her blouse, glancing lazily inside.

You watched on as the Shelbys were roughly patted down, cringing as one of the men had the audacity to check inside Polly’s top. Your eyes met Tommy’s again and your heart twisted in your chest. You wanted so desperately to hate him for once again having a baby with another woman, but seeing him, brought low like this, you faltered.

As his men retreated, Luca held out a heavy fountain pen, addressing Tommy.

“Sign. Every fuckin’ one of them.”

He dropped the pen, with a curl of his lip, casually pushing sheafs of papers onto the ground.

“You can sign them on your fuckin’ knees, on the floor.”

There was stillness, a silence that stretched too long, and you shivered as a trickle of cold sweat slipped down your spine.

And in a heartbeat, the moment snapped, Luca wrenching the table and flipping it over with a loud crash.

“GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES AND SIGN!” he roared and you could feel your hands shaking. You clasped them tightly around your handbag as Tommy held up a hand in mock apology and slowly lowered himself to his knees.

“A friend of mine once said,” he began, conversationally, as he settled on the dirty stone floor. “‘Big fucks small’. So I had to find someone bigger than you.”

Luca paused, watching him carefully, a sudden dryness in his throat.

“Now you may know there are two families in Brooklyn who want to take over your monopoly on the import of liquor into New York.”

“But,” continued Polly, “if they move against you in New York, they’ll start a war between the families.”

“But if you were to die in a vendetta with some fucking… bookmaker in Birmingham,” picked up Tommy, seamlessly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact they had clearly rehearsed their delivery. “They could take over your business without a war.”

Polly echoed his smile. “We also contacted a businessman in Chicago. He’s very interested in moving into the liquor business in New York.”

Tommy cleared his throat, a cheeky smile dancing in his eyes. “His name is Alphonse Capone.”

Your heart was hammering against your ribs as you gently unlatched your handbag. Behind your mother-in-law you caught Matteo’s eye and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

“You been talking to that fat fuck?” sneered Luca.

Tommy nodded for a moment before looking passed Luca to the assembled group behind him.

“See, all the blood relatives you brought with you from New York, they’re all dead, Mr Changretta. And these men here, they work for money for the highest bidder. They now have new orders.”

You heard Audrey gasp quietly next to you, her fingers digging into your left arm as she tried to draw you both away from the men with guns. But it was futile - there was nowhere to go, they had you surrounded.

“Is that right?” commented Luca, turning slowly to survey the ranks of men behind him.

“Is that right?” he repeated with a snarl. “And you, Matteo?”

The younger man held his head up and squared his shoulders, staring him down.

He turned back towards Tommy and you could hardly breathe.

He muttered something inaudible from your distance across the room and then the stillness shattered as all hell broke loose. He tried to draw a gun on Tommy, still kneeling at his feet but he was too quick for him, swiping sideways and pulling Luca down to his level. The revolver clattered to the ground and Polly scooped it up, aiming it at the pair thrashing together on the floor but unable to get a clear shot. Beside you, Audrey screamed.

Struggling to their feet, the men lunged at one another and the sickening heavy sound of fists connecting with soft tissue filled the air. Luca managed to reach a length of metal pipe and began swinging wildly as Tommy ducked and darted away. But after several missed strokes he was a fraction too slow and Luca caught him across the ribs. He bent double with a shout, wincing with pain and winded.

Arthur sprang forward, wrestling the Italian until he dropped the weapon, fists flying from both men. Catching Luca with a vicious right hook, he stumbled backwards, dazed for a moment, just long enough for the eldest Shelby to grab him and smash his head into the table, which moments before had held the Shelby empire. Tommy grabbed the gun from Polly and prepared to fire.

A single gunshot echoed through the draughty space and the fighting stopped suddenly. Arthur pinned Luca’s arms behind him, and he roared, dizzy and spitting blood as he struggled to no avail. His perfectly oiled hair was disheveled, his nose broken, face splattered with blood.

As he panted and snarled, you stepped forward, lowering your gun from where it had been pointed at the ceiling.

“He’s mine,” you said coldly, locking eyes with Tommy as you began to slowly approach. He nodded slightly and stepped back, lowering his weapon.

“Y/N!” called Audrey, hoarse with shock as you glanced at her, shooting her a filthy look.

Leaving her with Matteo looming by her shoulder, you took slow, deliberate steps towards your husband.

“Amore, what are you doing?” murmured Luca, uncertainly.

You stopped a few paces away from him. “What do you think I’m doing?” You levelled the gun at his head.

“Principessa… please… don’t be stupid..”

You bared your teeth in rage. “I am NOT your ‘principessa’,” you shouted. “Do you honestly think I would ever forgive you for what you did to me? You disgust me, Luca. The very sight of you makes me sick.”

With your free hand you pulled open the ties at the collar of your dress, exposing the dark marks he had made there. It took everything in him for Tommy not to ignore your wishes and pull the trigger himself. You deserved your retribution.

“You think I would ever choose to stay with the man who would do something like this to me?”

“Y/N! Stop this! He’s the father of your children!” wailed Audrey, shrieking as you turned, pointing the gun at her instead and she stuttered into silence.

“I think I’ve heard just about enough from you this week, mamma,” you spat.

You swung the gun back toward Luca, a vicious smile playing on your lips. “And do you really think I would have another of his children?”

He paled, confusion flitting across his bloody features.

“That’s right, amore,” you sneered, acid dripping from the term of endearment. “There is no baby.” You chuckled spitefully. “Did you never think it was strange that for a couple who used to fuck as much as we did, that I never fell pregnant again, after Chiara?”

You leaned closer, resting the muzzle of the gun against his cheek, enjoying how he flinched from the cold steel.

“I decided after the first time you hit me - her first Christmas, do you remember? - that I would never bring another child of yours into this world. And I have been careful, cucciolone, very careful.”

He snarled in anger, hate flaring in his eyes as he pulled against Arthur’s grip, desperate to rip you apart. His fucking mother being fooled by fucking gypsy parlour tricks. By your deceitful lies.

You smirked as he struggled, leaning close enough that he could feel your breath on his lips.

“And when you are dead, amore mio,” you taunted in a whisper, “my daughter will never even know your name.”

His lip curled in anger as you stepped back. “You’re full of shit, Y/N. All this is for him, right?” He jerked his head towards Tommy and for a moment you allowed yourself to look into those bright blue eyes.

“No,” you whispered, holding his gaze a moment longer. “Not for him.” Turning back towards Luca you took your time to line up the shot as Arthur shifted clear.

“I’m doing this for me.”

“You filthy puttana, you won’t—”

The bullet caught him right between the eyes. He staggered back and for a split-second he seemed to look at you in shock, before his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Audrey screamed in anguish as blood began to spread across the floor.

You stared at his body, waiting for some kind of emotion to hit you but all you felt was numb.

“You ungrateful, spiteful bitch!” raged his mother, suddenly breaking free and rushing towards you. You swung the gun quickly towards her and she skidded to a halt, hands held by her sides.

“I’m the bitch?” you shot back, stalking towards her so she was forced to stumble backwards. “I trusted you and all you did was deliver me into the hands of a rapist and tell me to smile.”

“Y/N, please, I was doing it for—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you were doing it for. Your precious family means nothing to me.”

Her back hit one of the large gin stills and she cowered as you levelled the gun at her head, several paces away.

“Tommy was right. John should have killed you when he had the chance.”

Whatever she opened her mouth to say was lost in the crack of gunfire, a small red dot opening in her forehead as gin gushed to the floor, the bullet having torn through her and into the side of the still.

She landed at your feet, the shot ringing in your ears.

It was over.

Distantly you were aware of Tommy speaking, something about import licences but you couldn’t focus. In your peripheral vision you saw Polly run to Michael.

“Tell your boss what you saw here today,” said Arthur as the remaining Italians began to disperse.

“No!” you called after them, stopping them in their tracks. “No. Tommy Shelby killed Luca Changretta and his mother. You haven’t seen me or my daughter in weeks…as far you know, we’re probably dead.”

You scanned the men who were staring at you with anxious faces.

“I will not live my life looking over my shoulder. If I so much as feel a niggle of someone watching me, so help me god, but I will hunt you all down and you will meet a similar fate to my husband, do you understand?”

A shifty silence followed.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” you shouted and suddenly a chorus of agreements came back as the men hurried to get away. Only Matteo stayed, moving to stand beside you.

“Thank you,” you said softly, pulling him into a tight hug. You would never be able to thank him enough for stepping up, putting his own life at risk for yours. Going to Tommy to give him the intelligence he needed to find another gangster who would be able to help. Smuggling you a revolver into the hotel.

You pressed your lips to his cheek, leaving a small red stain in your wake, which you tried to rub away with your thumb. “You saved my life.”

He held you gently for a moment, pulling back to pat you affectionately on the cheek.

“You have a great life, Y/N Y/L/N,” he smiled, before slowly walking away.

All of a sudden the enormity of what you had done hit you and you sagged, the gun slipping from your grasp, bouncing noisily on the ground.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft beside you as he gathered your exhausted body into his arms. And for just a moment, you let him. Let him be the strength you seemed to have momentarily misplaced. You hid your face in his shoulder as he stroked your hair and breathed in the familiar scent of your perfume, of you.

But a moment was all you allowed yourself, pushing away from him, taking deep breaths.

“Y/N…” he whispered again, but you moved beyond his reach. He could see pain in your eyes but as he opened his mouth to speak, Arthur came barrelling into you, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N,” he rumbled, crushing you against his wiry frame. “Remind me never to cross you in future.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he released you, cupping your face between his hands.

“John boy would be proud of you,” he mumbled, dropping a quick kiss to the top of your head and you felt tears well in your eyes.

“Let me see her,” demanded Polly, appearing at his shoulder. You shrank slightly - to your right Michael had been helped into a chair, his skin deathly pale but he smiled at you, giving you a little wave.

“Polly, I’m sorry, I—”

She shook her head to silence you, pulling you to her in a gentle embrace.

“He’s alive. You both are. That’s all that matters,” she whispered, feeling your shoulders begin to shake as the emotion of the day got the better of you.

“I should have done more… I couldn’t… I..” Your words were lost in sobs as she held you, stroking your hair.

“Hush, child. You’ve done enough.”

As your tears subsided, you pulled away, wiping your face. From nowhere, Johnny Dogs appeared, handing you a handkerchief.

“Still a sharp shot, I see,” he winked as you blew your nose.

“She learned from the best,” boomed Arthur, grinning as he clapped you on the back so hard you staggered slightly.

“Alright, leave her alone, eh” said Tommy gently, handing you a freshly lit cigarette and lighting one for himself. “Finn, get Michael to hospital.”

The youngest Shelby, who had been hovering, looking uncertain, nodded. As he left he touched your arm lightly. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

Smiling in thanks, you looked around, suddenly aware of a missing family member. Your heart began to race - surely Luca wouldn’t have been able to contain his gloating if he’d had something to do with her absence.

“Where’s Ada?” you asked urgently, turning to Tommy, clutching his arm involuntarily.

“She’s safe. She’s back at the house, looking after the kids.”

You released a long breath of relief and, to his disappointment, let go of him.

“She’s got some of your belongings too.”

You shook your head, not really listening. “I have to go.”

He rested his hands on your shoulders. “Go where?”

You looked up into his face, feeling the same twist in your chest as before as you saw the look in his eyes. The same look as that morning in his bed. Did he know then that he was having a child with another woman? Lied to you all over again?

You shrugged him off, anger spiking through you.

“Where? To fucking Camden, of course! Alfie Solomons still has my daughter!”

He shook his head, dropping the end of his smoke and crushing it under his heel.

“He’s not there. He’s gone to Margate.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Margate??”

He nodded solemnly. “Come back to the house, eh? You need a minute after today.”

“She needs a fucking drink, don’tcha luv?” chuckled Arthur, the adrenaline of the morning still coursing through him like snow.

Or possibly it was still the effects of the snow he’d taken before the Changrettas turned up.

“No, I need to go. Chiara..”

“Come back to the house. Ada’s got something that belongs to you.”

You opened your mouth to argue and then you saw the glint in his eye. He saw the realisation dawn on your face and nodded slightly.

You took off at a run, cursing your Parisien heels for slipping and sliding on the dirty cobbles of Small Heath. You heard Tommy calling after you but you didn’t stop, your heart hammering in your ears as your feet automatically traced the path from Charlie’s Yard to the Shelby house, that you had run thousands of times in your youth.

Bursting through the front door, you heard Ada’s shriek turn to a cry of relief as she saw it was you, but you couldn’t speak to her. She might as well not have been there because the only person you could see was the shining dark curly head of your daughter, playing on the rug.

“Piccolina..?” you breathed and she turned properly to look up at you from the game she was playing with Charlie Shelby.

“Mamma!” she squealed, running to you as your knees hit the floor, her little arms squeezing around your neck. You pressed her tiny body to your chest, tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Oh my baby, my baby,” you sobbed into her hair, covering her with kisses as you rocked her gently until she began to wriggle in your grip.

“I playing with Charee, mama,” she said with a slightly indignant air and you could only laugh, your own pout staring back at you. You kissed her forehead and let her return to her game.

Still on the floor, Ada knelt beside you, folding you in a hug.

“What happened?” she whispered as the children began to play a noisy game with Charlie’s toy horses.

Sitting back, you wiped your face and her hand strayed to the still open neck of your dress.

“Jesus, Y/N, did he do that?”

You nodded, swallowing and she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. This whole morning felt like an out of body experience. Looking up, you caught Charlie looking at you, his little brow wrinkled in concern. You gave him a watery smile and he went back to the game.

“He’s dead. I.. I shot him,” you said finally, in a hushed voice. “And his mother.”

She sat back, a look of shock on her face. “His mother?!” she whispered.

“She deserved it,” came Tommy’s voice from behind you.

Leaning forward to press another kiss to Chiara’s head as she chattered non-stop to Charlie, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself to your feet. As you did you suddenly spied Barbara, in the doorway to the kitchen.

Pushing past Tommy you hurried to her, meeting her in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, thank you, thank you for keeping her safe,” you cried into her shoulder as she squeezed you back.

Pulling away, you held her at arm’s length. “You’re ok?” you asked earnestly. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No, signora, not at all,” she smiled. “In fact, he was very kind. She was very taken with him… I think it was mutual.”

She laughed at your bewildered expression as you tried to square the idea of Alfie Solomons, the Mad Baker of Camden Town, and your little Chiara together.

*****

You stayed for the afternoon - Arthur was right, you needed a drink - and you decamped with the Shelby clan to The Garrison where there was more space. Chiara, initially clinging to you when confronted by the number of adults in the unfamiliar space, soon recovered her confidence and in no time, was running riot with Charlie and Karl, squealing and charming everyone in sight.

“She’s beautiful,” smiled Bonnie, settling beside you in one of the booths, handing you another whiskey. The pub had been closed for the day, only family and those close to them admitted. You had almost flattened Bonnie on sight, so utterly relieved to see him alive.

“Thank you,” you beamed, your heart so full at having her back that there was almost no room for the horrors of the morning to dampen your spirits.

“Alfie Solomons told me to send you his regards, by the way.”

You swivelled towards him, slopping your drink slightly at your speed, confusion creased across your face and he chuckled.

“He brought her as far as the Stratford road, we picked her up from there. She was very upset to be parted from him.”

“I didn’t know… he didn’t tell…” You stopped, taking a breath to form a proper sentence. “Thank you, I’m so grateful…for everything.”

You folded your hand over his arm and pecked him lightly on the cheek.

Across the room, Tommy’s expression darkened as he watched you, jealousy forming a bitter taste in his mouth as he saw how relaxed and familiar you were with the young Gold man.

You had been cold and aloof with him since the warehouse. Politely thankful for his intervention that had brought you back together with your daughter, but reserved. None of the ease that there had been just a few short weeks earlier.

Chiara ran up to you and his face softened. She was like a miniature of you, except for her eyes. He watched as you lifted her to your knee, tickling her until she squealed in high pitched giggles, making you smile, as she wriggled, wanted to be off to play with the bigger children again.

As you set her back down on her feet you looked up and caught his eye. He gave a slight jerk of his head towards the back corridor and you sighed. You were going to have to face him at some point. Excusing yourself, you followed him into the quiet of Arthur’s office.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked, lighting a cigarette. You patted your dress and cursed at having left yours in the bar. Chuckling, he handed his to you, lighting another for himself.

“Some things never change, eh?” he smirked and you smiled despite yourself, taking a drag. “You ok?” he repeated.

You took a moment to answer, smoke twirling around your head.

“I can’t quite believe he’s gone. I think it’s going to be a while before I’m not expecting to see him around every corner, coming after me.”

He nodded, looking down as he fidgeted with his cigarette.

“But I’m ok. Having her back is helping a lot,” you added, catching his eye with a soft smile. “Thank you for that.”

He nodded again, clearing his throat the way he always did when he was uncomfortable.

“Tom—”

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, cutting in. “I heard you telling Ada you’re leaving in the morning.”

You pulled forcefully on your cigarette.

“Thomas, I am very grateful for your part in today, for making it possible and for rescuing my child.” He opened his mouth and you held up a hand to silence him. “But how can you ask me to stay?”

He stared forlornly at you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this again, but I know about the baby, Tom. About Lizzie.”

His eyes widened and he stepped toward you, only for you to take a step back.

“No. Don’t,” you said sharply. “Just tell me, was it all a lie? Did you know the whole time you were fucking me?”

He could see the glaze of unshed tears in your eyes.

“No, I swear, it wasn’t like before. Please, Y/N, it was never meant to happen and it was before I even knew you were back in England. I don’t love her. And there is no baby. Not anymore.”

You froze, the snide retort you were about to unleash dying on your lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Luca… he beat her for information about you. She lost the baby.”

You sagged, feeling winded and groped to steady yourself against the edge of Arthur’s desk. Yet more death because of you. No matter how angry and hurt you had been at the news of her pregnancy, you would never have wished something like this on her.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, slowly lifting your head to look at him again.

He nodded with a sad shrug. “She ratted you out to him, I wouldn’t feel too sorry for her. She has no place in this family from now on.”

You shook your head at the coldness in his words.

“She loves you, Tom.”

He stepped towards you and this time you didn’t move away.

“And I love you.”

He brushed a lock of hair back behind your ear. “I love you, Y/N. I always have. And I know I fucked up so many times and I can never be sorry enough for what I did, but I love you. Always you. Only you.”

You rested your hands on his chest as his knuckles brushed lightly across your cheek, his eyes, blue like a midsummer’s day, gazing at you with such longing.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t.”

His eyes fell shut and you felt him close in on himself.

“I need to be alone. Away from this life. Somewhere I can raise my child in safety.”

“I will keep you safe,” he whispered, closing his hands over yours, still against his chest.

You shook your head sadly, gently pulling your hands away. Standing on your toes you kissed him very softly on the lips.

“I know you would. But like I told Luca, I’m doing this for me.”

PART 27

Is everyone ok? I’m assuming there will be cheering in the streets that the Changrettas are dead 🤭 I have one more chapter for you which I will share as soon as it’s ready - look out for updates on when to expect it as it might be sooner than next Wednesday.

As always, please do come and scream your feelings at me in all the usual ways - I’m desperate to know what you thought of this! 🤍

Credit for the gif to the wonderfully kind @thesoldiersminute 😘😘

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

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#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

I want to kick Luca in his stupid, handsome face for how casual he was about BEATING AND RAPING his own wife!!! Like what the actual fuck? The audacity of him not being fucking mortified, ashamed and haunted by his own actions. This vendetta has made virtually everything else sink into insignificance in his mind.

And now we're coming to THE chapter and I am unsure if I'm ready to read it. Am I? I can't even have a little drinkie either because of all the painkillers. Dang, bro. Okay [deep breath] here I go!

Ok, so this is part 1 of this week’s bumper edition - part 2 will follow as soon as I can get it edited (but probably tomorrow - Friday). We’re in the endgame now and things are looking very bleak for our plucky protagonists. Will they be able to emerge victorious? You’ll just have to tune in to part 2 to find out! 😬 Enjoy! xx

Summary: They say things are always darkest before the dawn. Trapped in the hotel with the Changrettas, Y/N is forced into a difficult position to save her life. In Small Heath, the Shelbys have no choice but to concede in the wake of the kidnappings.

Warnings: References (more overtly than recently) to past sexual assault and domestic violence. Bad language and one (1) racial slur.

Word count: 3331 PART 24 | SERIES

Part 25: Submission

The knocking on the door roused you. You shivered groggily, pulling a blanket around your shoulders - you didn’t remember falling asleep but suddenly it was dark outside again. You had been in this room for almost two days now, refusing anything but food and fresh clothes. Hours drifted by like sand through the glass but you couldn’t seem to stay awake for more than a few at a time, exhaustion of mind, body and spirit claiming you over and over again. When you were awake, your mood swayed wildly from panic that left you with a racing heart and clammy, to crushing lethargy. You were constantly nauseous, a dull terror eating away at your insides.

You stumbled to the door, every part of your body aching, opening it just enough to see out. Seeing it was Audrey, you released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“Can I come in tesorina?”

Sighing, flicking the light switch and squinting, you opened the door further and let her in.

She looked around the disheveled room, all the evidence of her young granddaughter jumbled together in the form of toys, books and clothing. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes matching the ring of black and purple bruises around your neck.

She looked away quickly.

“What’s he doing to bring her home?” you asked, seeing her looking at Chiara’s things, your voice scratchy with sleep and lack of use.

“Solomons is demanding confirmation of agreement from New York. These things take time.”

“The telegram service has been invented, hasn’t it?” you snapped. “I didn’t dream it?”

Her mouth set in a firm line. You knew you needed to be more careful - you were only safe as long as she decided you should be. She was the only thing standing between you and Luca finally putting an end to you.

“Sorry, mamma.” You held up your hands apologetically. “I’m exhausted, I don’t mean to be rude. I just… I just want her back. I haven’t seen her in weeks… it’s killing me.”

Her absence, especially here amongst her things, was like a knife in your stomach. Every time you woke up, you expected to find her warm little body curled next to yours. And every time she wasn’t there was like a fresh wound. You dropped down on the edge of the unmade bed, fiddling fretfully with one of her stuffed animals.

Audrey sighed and sat next to you, taking your hand in hers.

“They need signatures on documents that can only come from New York, cara. Give it time, she will be back with you very soon.”

“Is Michael Gray still alive?” you enquired softly. “I saw him before I left the farmhouse. I think he’s getting an infection. He was shot when John Shelby was killed and his bullet wounds have reopened.”

She pursed her lips, scrutinising you for a moment.

“We need him alive, for now… I’ll see he is taken care of.”

You nodded, a weight lifting from your chest. Though you didn’t much like the use of ‘for now’ in her reply. But there was little else you could do for him from here.

“Y/N..” she began hesitantly and you glanced sideways at her. She looked tired. She wasn’t a young woman anymore and the crossing, plus events since her arrival must be taking their toll. She caught your eye and smiled gently before continuing.

“I spoke to Luca about what you told me happened between you.”

Your heart plummeted. No doubt he told her it was all lies.

“Luca is sorry for what he did, cara mia, he wants to apologise. Will you see him?”

You opened your mouth in confusion. He was actually acknowledging what happened? Well that was a start but surely she didn’t expect you to forgive him?!

“I don’t want to see him. I don’t care how sorry he thinks he is. Some things you can’t take back.”

She stiffened beside you.

“Please Y/N, if you could listen to him. Think of the baby… things would be so much easier…”

A surge of anger rushed through you and you pulled your hand from hers.

“Easier for who?! For you?? For him?! How can you even ask me that, Audrey? Do you really expect me to forgive him, after what he did?”

She reached for you but you stood up, putting space between you as you reached for your cigarettes, lighting one with shaking hands.

“Do you blame me for wanting to see my family whole again, Y/N? I’ve lost my son and my husband. And now this... I admit that Luca has lost his way and he has treated you poorly, but he loves you, I know it. He always has. And as your husband really he has…”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was she seriously trying to excuse his crimes?!

“He VIOLATED me!” you cried, spinning towards her as waves of memories from within these walls began to buffet you. Begging him to stop. The pain as he forced himself into your body.

She stood, looking stern and serious. “Y/N stop this. You think you are special? You think husbands always ask nicely before taking what is their right from their wives?”

You could feel your legs shaking and you felt like you might be sick. Surely this was some terrible joke? She couldn’t be serious.

“Y/N, You are an intelligent woman. How do you think this ends for you if you continue to defy him? You’re carrying his child, so maybe that will stop him for now, but pregnancy doesn’t last forever, amore.”

“You think I want this baby? You think I want this? To be his wife just so he can beat me and use me?” You stared at her, stricken. “You know what my father was like - I refuse to become my mother!”

She slapped you sharply across the cheek.

“Stop being so hysterical! When we get home he will go back to normal. I will see to it. But if you refuse to forgive him and continue to make trouble then you can’t be surprised if at some point you will become… surplus to requirement.”

You pressed a hand to your stinging flesh, struck dumb by the transformation of this woman you thought you knew. Who you thought was on your side.

“Take my advice, cara mia, if you want to live long enough to see Chiara again, you will listen to what he has to say. And if you want to stay alive to see her and this baby grow up, you will accept his apology.”

You stared at her mutely, unable to process what was happening.

“Tommy Shelby was never good enough for you, Y/N, no matter how much wealth and infamy he has gathered for himself. And when my son is finished with him, he will return to the dirt where he and his gypsy scum family came from. But my family will be whole again. I will see that Luca controls his fists, I will bring him back to himself.”

She patted your cheek affectionately, like she hadn’t just struck you moments before. “Things will be better, you’ll see. You will have this baby and we will be a family again.”

Heading for the door she paused before she let herself out. “You’re not ready today. I understand and that’s fine. But time is not on your side, tesoro. You have three days to make your decision.”

The door clicked shut behind her and you raced to lock it again. Sinking to the floor, you sat with your back against the heavy wood, head spinning.

Three days. Three centuries wouldn’t be enough for you to forgive him.

You began to wonder if she wasn’t just as unhinged as her son.

*****

They heard her coming, not with fanfare but with silence, the uncanny shift in the air on the Lane. The whooping shouts and laughter of children hushing as she passed by, the white flag held high beside her.

Tommy let himself out of Polly’s house, his aunt hot on his heels, as Audrey Changretta stopped ten feet away.

He felt Polly coiled tightly next to him, ready to strike. It was three days since you and Michael had been taken. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept, making and re-making plans, controlling the search for you both. His aunt was frantic, on edge, snapping at everyone. He had been forced to physically restrain her from going back to Lizzie at the hospital, baying for blood. It was a feeling he could entirely sympathise with but he held back - more death, or rather Lizzie’s death, wouldn’t bring you and Michael back sooner.

He had men searching the countryside for you both but it was like you had simply vanished into the ether. He had tried to draw Changretta out, but so far there had been nothing but silence in response to his letter. He was trying not to panic but with each passing day he could feel you slipping further away from him.

He had not, however, expected Mrs Changretta, his old former school mistress, to be the one to carry Luca’s reply.

“You’ve got a nerve showing up here like this,” spat Polly, stepping forward and he put out his hand to warn her back.

“I bring news of your son, Polly-Anna. I think you will want to hear what I have to say,” replied Audrey coldly, chin held high.

He felt Polly bristle in response and cut in before she could say anything unhelpful.

“You’d better come in. I’d rather not discuss family business in the street.”

A few minutes later they were all squeezed into Polly’s little sitting room, Audrey on one side, the older Shelbys opposite. Finn had been dispatched to entertain his nephews.

“Your note talked about making terms for peace,” she began, smoothing her skirts over her knees, eyeing them imperiously. “But my son says there are no terms.”

She locked eyes with Tommy, undeterred by the icy blue stare that struck fear into the hearts of so many others.

“You took my husband and my son, we took your brother. And now we have your son,” she continued, glancing meaningfully at Polly, “and the woman you have loved since you were a boy, Mr Shelby.”

He forced himself to keep his face impassive at the mention of Y/N. He took a steadying drag of the cigarette that smouldered between his fingers.

“Are they still alive?”

She nodded slowly, flicking her eyes to Polly whose face was like carved stone with the effort of not shooting this woman on the spot. “Your son is alive for as long as my son wishes it to be so.” Turning her attention back to Tommy, she added, “My daughter-in-law is safe, pleased to be back with her family.”

His fingers unconsciously curled into a fist at her lie. You had been terrified of Luca catching up with you. Wherever you were, he doubted you were safe. But if he couldn’t get to you, he needed to do what was necessary to keep you both alive.

“The vendetta is done?” he ventured and she smirked.

“We say, the vendetta is won.” She pulled herself up straight in her chair, preening in her son’s success. “We will take everything you have. All your businesses signed over to us. You agree to this, or my son will kill you all, one by one, starting with Michael. You have five days.”

Polly started forward in her chair and he rested a heavy hand on her arm, shooting her a warning glance.

“The vendetta is won,” he acknowledged softly. “That’s it. No more killing.”

She gave a single, curt nod, rising to her feet in victory and heading for the door. Tommy followed her into the narrow hallway, leaving his family absorbing the shock.

She paused before she left, looking him up and down haughtily. “Who did you think you were, Mr Shelby?” she sneered. “Did you really think she still loved you? She has come home, back by my son’s side, where she belongs. You were never anything more than a distraction.”

He walked slowly back into the sitting room, the pale faces of his family all turned towards him for guidance.

“What are we going to do, Tom? All the businesses…?” asked Ada quietly, her hand clasped tightly around Polly’s. His aunt’s dark eyes shone out knowingly, locked on his own.

“Only one thing we can do, Ada,” he sighed. “We’re gonna let him have them.”

*****

Three days later, Luca strode back into the hotel with a spring in his step. He had just seized control of Sabini and the Titanic gangs’ businesses giving his family control of a large portion of the London underworld. Solomons would be next but he had to tread carefully until he had handled the Shelby business and could get his daughter back.

He halted suddenly as he entered his study, finding you sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire. He hadn’t seen you, even for a moment, since the night his mother insisted he bring you back here.

“What’re you doing in here?”

You looked up, and he swallowed harshly at the ring of bruises around your throat, the cut on your lip that was beginning to heal.

“Your mother said you had something you wanted to say to me,” you replied softly, pulling on your cigarette, the smoke drifting lazily around your small frame in the large leather chair.

He shrugged off his coat and rested his hat on the stand, straying automatically towards the whiskey decanter across the room.

“Luca?”

He turned toward you, taking a sip, ignoring the faint burn in his throat.

“Yeah… I…I’m sorry,” he shrugged, frowning as you let out a dry breath of laughter.

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sorry,” he snapped.

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes cold and hard. “Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus, Y/N, do you need me to fucking say it?”

You stood up, throwing the end of your smoke into the fire, your hands clenching at your sides. “I need to know that you understand what you did to me,” you bit out harshly.

“Alright, fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair, sinking another large mouthful of his whiskey. “I was too rough with you that day, alright? But I was angry - you went behind my fuckin’ back with Polly Gray.”

You shook your head with incredulity.

“Too rough with me? Too ROUGH?”

You walked across the room, running your hand over the panelling where it had happened, fighting hard to control the emotions it brought up within you.

“You raped me, Luca. Right here,” you whispered.

“The fuck you have to be so melodramatic for, Y/N?! You’re my wife!”

You twisted on the spot, anger flaring in your eyes. “And so what? You can do what you want to me, is that it?” Tears blurred your vision. “I begged you to stop, Luca. Begged you. But you didn’t.”

He opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t seem to come. Your desperate, plaintive cries echoed in his ears.

“Do you remember when we were kids?” you said quietly into the silence between you and he lifted his head, catching your eye. “When I would show up early at school, or your house after it, and your mother would take care of me?”

He nodded fractionally.

“Until he got too sick to move, my father made my mother’s life a living hell. He would beat her for everything and nothing. And when he got tired of beating her, he would take it out on me. Once he whipped me with his belt so much that I couldn’t lie on my back for a week. He broke my wrist - both of them actually, different times - and my ribs. He tried to avoid my face though, so it would be less obvious.”

He remembered the bruises and the way you wore long sleeves at school, even in summer. He dropped his gaze to the remaining amber liquid in the glass that rested in his white-knuckled grip.

“I don’t want to be my mother, Luca,” you whispered, eyes shining with tears. “I don’t want to wake up every day terrified of what my husband might do to me. I don’t want to be afraid for my daughter.”

His head snapped up. “I would never lay a finger on Chiara.”

“I never thought the man I married would lay a finger on me but yet, here we are,” you countered, gesturing at your neck.

He wanted to shout and deny your accusations but the weight of shame settled on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs so he couldn’t form words. And there was no denying that he could see the distinct imprint of his own fingers and thumbs branded onto your delicate skin.

He set down his glass and crossed the room. You sucked in a breath and tried to move away but your back hit the panelling as he stopped in front of you. You could feel your heart beating too quickly, panic making you light-headed. He was too close, much too close.

“No, please,” you stuttered, your hands against his chest.

“Ssshh…I’m not going to hurt you, piccolina,” he murmured, reaching to gently cup your chin, tracing his thumb over your lips. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Truly I am - it will never happen again. I love you.”

He leaned in to kiss you and you felt bile in your throat, the familiar smell of his cologne transporting you to the last time you were this close to him. As his lips grazed yours you pushed hard against his chest, finally succeeding in wriggling away from him. Darting across the room, you took deep, slow breaths as you tried not to be sick.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.. it’s too soon for that,” you forced yourself to apologise, clutching the back of the armchair as black dots swam in your vision.

He moved slowly to stand behind you, slipping his arms around your waist, resting a large palm against your stomach.

“Tell me you forgive me, principessa,” he coaxed.

You squeezed your eyes shut and dug your nails into the fabric of the chair.

You’re doing this to stay alive. You’re doing it for Chiara, you chanted to yourself inside your head.

“I… I forgive you, Luca. I just need a little time.”

You felt his hands tighten around you as he made a little grunt of approval.

“Tell me you don’t love him.” His breath fanned across your ear as he brushed your hair back from your shoulder.

A stab of pain hit you, picturing Tommy with Lizzie, their new baby. You didn’t have to work to lie.

“I don’t love him.”

He nodded against you, nuzzling your hair, and your stomach turned over. You needed his hands off you but you couldn’t move.

“We will be a family again, Y/N. You will forget about Tommy Shelby. When my son is born, we will be as we once were,” he murmured, pressing his lips into the crook of your neck.

“You’re mine, amore mia.”

You stood, frozen and mute against him as tears slid silently down your face.

*****

Streaks of cold, grey dawn began to paint the sky as Tommy watched them from the bedroom window, smoke swirling around his head. Behind him stood the bed where only two weeks ago you had slept next to him, the gentle rhythm of your heart against his chest calming the shovels in his head in a way that no one before or since had been able to.

Since you had been taken he had only been able to snatch brief hours of fitful rest.

But today it would end. One way or another.

PART 26

ARE YOU READY??!?! I’m not sure you are. Stay tuned for the next instalment very soon - at least one person is going to die 😬

As ever, I live for your feedback so please do stop by and let me know what you thought. Given this week is a little different, I don’t mind if you want to batch your review with the next part but either way, I’d love to hear from you! xx

Credit for the gif at the top to the wonderful @thesoldiersminute - thank you lovely! 🤍

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @ladygreythethird (unable to tag) , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhore , @majesticcmey , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @itssamlavadaa, @quarterpastmidnight , @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 (unable to tag) , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel , @vivre-dans-la-nuit , @woofgocows , @esposadomd

#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Trying to articulate myself on pain pills is hard, as I did read this chapter and the next last night while waiting for my laundry to finish, but my god, the emotion and the urgency and the AUDREY in this chapter... bahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! I can feel her desperation so clearly, her need to survive it, her drive to get away from it all. I am cheering her on from the sidelines!!

Sorry for the delay on this one loves but you can blame tumblr for breaking almost every link in my masterlist, meaning I had to spend hours fixing them instead of posting this 😫 Anyway, let’s get straight into it, shall we?

Summary: Y/N tries to find a way to escape whilst Audrey demands the truth from her son, eventually bringing her face to face with her daughter-in-law.

Warnings: Usual bad language, mentions of violence and past sexual assault.

Word count: 4938 PART 23 | SERIES

Part 24: The Longest Night

After Luca left, you were alone for what seemed like an age. Or it might have just felt that way because only a short while into it, you began to need the toilet. You absolutely refused to give into the indignity of being forced to piss yourself but eventually, when no one came of their own accord to check on you, calling for help was the only alternative.

At first nothing happened. But as you were just starting to panic that you would just have to wet yourself, the door opened and there stood Matteo. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in months, not mere weeks.

“You’re still doing his dirty work then I see.”

His expression darkened but he looked uncomfortable. Which was interesting, you thought.

“Wha’d’ya want?” he snapped back.

“Well unless you want me to make a mess in here, you’re going to need to take me to a bathroom.”

He looked even more uncomfortable.

“Please, Matteo, I’m desperate. I promise if I try anything you have my permission to shoot me.”

“I don’t need your permission to do that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well ok then, can you untie me please?”

He slipped his gun from its holster and moved behind you, fiddling awkwardly with the knots. After a moment your hands were free. Groaning with relief at being able to move your arms, you pulled your hands to your front, rolling your aching shoulders. Your wrists were red and raw from your struggles against the ropes.

Before you even think about making a move, you felt the muzzle of his revolver press cold against the base of your neck.

“You try anything and you’re dead, do you hear me? The boss’ll understand.”

You nodded carefully, holding your arms out to the side, hands in clear sight.

“On your feet.”

Carefully he guided you from the room, the gun jabbing you in the back, his other hand on your upper arm. The facilities, such as they were, were outside and the cold wind slapped you in the face, whipping your hair, as you crossed the dark yard behind the building. You were clearly in some kind of farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and it was so dark you could barely see more than a few feet ahead of you. The only light came from the open back door behind you and a weak gleam from a lamp that hung on a hook by the entrance to the privy.

“Be quick,” he instructed, shoving you inside with the lamp.

As the door rattled shut, you looked around frantically, searching for something, anything, you could use as a weapon. But frustratingly, the small, freezing out-building was bare except for a toilet and a sink and so unless you were going to dismantle the cistern somehow, there was nothing to help you.

Which would be impressive given it was several feet above you, and even if you stood on the toilet seat you probably weren’t tall enough to see inside.

That and you had no fucking idea how to dismantle a cistern.

He rapped the door, disturbing your tangled thoughts. “Get a fuckin’ move on!”

You sat on the loo, almost in tears with frustration, running your hands through your already messy hair.

Fuck. THINK Y/N!

*****

Luca squirmed slightly under his mother’s gaze, running a hand through his hair. The little black hand tattoo by his thumb winked at her through the dark strands.

“I…uhh…she took the baby away for a few days. Been cooped up here too long, y’know?” he lied and Audrey cocked her head to the side.

“She went on holiday? In the middle of a vendetta? When she knows how much of a target she and Chiara would be for the Shelbys?” She raised her eyebrows and shook her head as he reddened, aware he was caught out. “You never could lie to me, piccolino. Now, tell me the truth, where are they?”

He sighed heavily and moved to pour them both a drink.

“She betrayed us. Ran off to Tommy fucking Shelby.”

Audrey looked stunned as she accepted the heavy cut crystal tumbler of whiskey from her son. She was well aware of your past relationship with Thomas Shelby, but you loved Luca - you were besotted with each other before you came here. It just made no sense that you would run back to the man who hurt you so cruelly before.

“What do you mean ‘she ran off’? How? Where is she now?? Does she have Chiara?”

He ran a palm down his face. He was genuinely too exhausted for this tonight.

“I’m handling it. Look, it’s late mamma, let’s talk about this in the morning.”

“Answer the fucking questions, Luca!” she snapped. He bristled at being spoken to like one of his soldiers by his own mother and opened his mouth to retaliate. But he caught the fierce expression on her face and thought better of it.

“I have her somewhere safe - we attacked the place she was hiding today. She claims the Shelbys kidnapped her but it’s bullshit - she’s been working with them since we got here.”

“And my granddaughter?”

He reddened further, eyes darting left and right, avoiding hers. She braced herself.

“That’s… more complicated,” he said eventually, deciding to just tell the truth. She would winkle it out if him either way.

“Shelby had some Jew from London called Solomons abduct her - for Y/N, she’ll have talked him into it I’m sure - but the stupid fuck got played. Solomons is holding Chiara - he’s got demands we need to look like we’re working on. But as soon as Tommy Shelby is dead, I’ll take him and his business out, and we’ll get her back. The nanny is with her, she’s safe.”

His mother stared at him with narrowed eyes. Things were much, much worse than she could have possibly imagined. But something about the story niggled at her - it just didn’t add up.

“So you’re telling me that Y/N left here, to run back to Tommy Shelby, without Chiara? Why would she do that? Why are you so sure she wasn’t kidnapped?”

“BECAUSE SHE’S STILL IN LOVE WITH HIM!” he roared suddenly, spittle flying from his lips as he hurled his glass against the fireplace. It shattered to smithereens, the raw alcohol making the flames leap higher in the grate.

Audrey was quiet for a moment, shocked at her eldest son’s behaviour. He had been on edge before he left New York but this… this was something else. She was suddenly very afraid for her daughter-in-law.

“Take me to her,” she said quietly as he gripped the back of the other armchair, breath coming in sharp bursts.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your mother and I fucking said so,” she retorted, sinking her drink and standing, smoothing her skirts and looking at him expectantly.

*****

On the way back from the privy you paused on the landing by the other door, guessing it was the room where they were keeping Michael.

“Move,” grunted Matteo, nudging you with his gun.

“Let me see him,” you asked quietly, reaching towards the door handle.

He moved quickly, standing between you and the door, gun levelled in your face.

“I said move.”

“Matteo please, just for a moment. I just want to see if he’s ok,” you pleaded.

“What’s it to you if he’s ok or not?”

“I‘ve known him since he was a baby. And he’s only in this mess because of me.”

You could see him wavering. He always was a better man than Luca.

“Please, just for a moment. I know what you must think of me but please…”

He lowered the gun with a sigh, twisting the handle of the door and nudging it open with his foot.

“Make it quick.”

You hurried past him into the dingy room, much like your own prison, freezing and bare apart from the huddled form of Michael in the corner, his hand and feet bound. His face was bloody and great purple and black bruises were blooming all over it.

You sank to your knees beside him, running a hand over his shoulder and he woke with a start, flinching away you.

“It’s ok, it’s me, it’s me,” you soothed but you could hear the crack of emotion in your voice. You tried and failed not to imagine Polly’s reaction had she found him like this.

“Y/N?” he croaked in surprise. He tried to move and groaned in pain. One of his eyes was swollen shut and as he moved his arm you could see blood seeping through his shirt; his bullet wounds had reopened and were bleeding again.

Until today you had felt little towards this man, barely more than a boy still really, other than mild contempt at his habit of smug arrogance. But now, after your conversation on the hill, his attempt to save you both, what you had both endured, you felt protective towards him. You had to save him, for Polly. A surge of rage coursed through you at his treatment at the hands of your husband.

“He needs a doctor, his stitches have torn. He could get an infection,” you said sharply to Matteo, gently running your fingers through Michael’s slightly matted hair. He was already burning up.

“He’s not getting a doctor. This ain’t a fuckin’ hotel.”

You threw him a filthy look before turning back to Michael, drawing closer to whisper low enough you wouldn’t, hopefully, be heard.

“I’m going to get us out of this, Michael, I promise. I’m going to get you back home, no matter what I have to do. Just hang on for me, yeah? Hang on.”

You felt him squeeze your hand in acknowledgment.

“Michael, listen to me,” you said urgently in the same low voice, leaning ever closer. “I need you to do something to help me. Luca is going to ask you a question about your mum, about me. I need you to say yes. Can you do that for me?”

He nodded, grimacing at the pain it sent shooting through his skull.

“Alright that’s enough,” said Matteo, growing increasingly uncomfortable at how far he was disobeying his boss. He should never have let you come in here. If Luca ever found out, he was in big trouble.

“Just hold on, I’ll get us out of this, I promise,” you whispered one last time, offering Michael a soft smile, trying to fight back the burn of tears in your throat. You had no idea if that was true, and even if you could convince Luca to spare your life, could you really save both of you.

A wave of tiredness and sorrow washed over you. Today had been so long this morning, grooming horses with Bonnie felt like a lifetime ago. Bonnie… you didn’t even know if he was alive. So many people caught up in this vicious battle that was as much between you and Luca as it was between he and the Shelbys. Would he even have gone looking for Michael if you hadn’t been the lure? All those poor people at the camp, lives lost and ruined because of you.

You forced yourself back to your feet before Matteo could get any more antsy - you were nervous about how trigger happy he might be feeling - and headed for the door. You waited there for him, hands crossed in front of your body, looking down at the floor demurely. No false moves.

You were quiet for the final short journey back to your own cold, depressing room.

“Matteo?” you asked softly as you sat back down, proffering your hands to be re-tied.

“Y/N, don’t,” he sighed, able to guess what was coming next.

“Please, you could stop this right now. You know this is wrong.”

He looked away from your wide imploring eyes. Even after days of living outdoors, covered in dirt and grass stains from falling down the hill, and with a split lip and bruises, you were still completely beguiling. He had a sudden memory of meeting you for the first time, back when Luca had just begun courting you, and he hadn’t been able to stop the twist of jealousy in his stomach at his friend’s good luck.

“Matteo, you know what he did to me? Don’t you?” you whispered.

As you watched your words land he shook his head, not in disagreement but as though doing battle internally. He played anxiously with the rope, still between his hands, waiting to return to your wrists.

“Please,” you pressed. “He’s either going to kill me or he’s going to force me to stay with him. I need to stay alive, for Chiara’s sake, but please, I can’t go back there, to that life. Not after what he did. You have to get me out of here.”

Of course he knew what Luca had done to you. Barbara had told him and he believed her; he’d seen the marks on your face and neck before you were taken. Two weeks on and there were still the faintest of bruises, if you looked closely. How could he do something like that to someone like you?

But, said the other little voice in his head, it wasn’t his place to decide what happened to you. After all, you were Luca’s wife. And especially after you had betrayed the family with your deals with the Shelbys and that nearly got them all killed.

“I can’t…” he murmured.

“You can! I know you’re a better man than he is, Matteo. Please, just help me get my daughter back and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I can’t,” he said more firmly and you could have wept.

“Please—”

“No, I really can’t. Chiara, she’s not here. Solomons still has her.”

You froze, your heart all but stopping in your chest.

“What..? But how? Did Luca not go for her??”

“No, he did but—”

“You’re telling me that my baby is still with that madman?! It’s been almost a WEEK, Matteo!”

Fury chased panic through your veins and you leapt from your seat, pacing, unable to stay still. Never for a minute had you thought Luca wouldn’t have got her back by now. He was many things but he was a devoted father. How could he just leave her there?!

“Solomons had demands, stuff that needed time to arrange, there was nothing he could do without a battle.”

“He started a war over his brother! She’s his fucking daughter!” Your eyes were bright, flashing with rage and for a moment Matteo remembered who you could be when you weren’t beaten and cowed by your husband.

“C’mon Y/N, you know he would have got her if he could. We were outnumbered.”

You opened your mouth to respond, practically shaking with anger, when there was the clear sound of tyres crunching on the gravel outside. Matteo rushed to the window and peeked out, seeing Luca climbing from the vehicle.

“Merda, please, I need to you to sit down, he’ll cut my fuckin’ balls off if you’re not tied up.”

You stopped pacing abruptly, facing him, rapidly weighing your options in your head.

“Make it worth my while.”

*****

The phone rang in the dark of the bakery and Alfie snatched it up before it could wake the sleeping child across the room.

“Speak,” he grunted in a semi-whisper.

“Alfie?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and sent a prayer that he was sure would not be listened to, because they never fucking had been before when it came to this heathen Shelby man.

“What d’you want Tommy? It’s late.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because there is a toddler sleeping not three fucking feet away from me and she was murder to get down tonight, so I will not have scum like you waking her up!” he whisper-shouted, glowering as he heard chuckling at the other end of the line.

“I thought you took the nanny with you?”

“Yeah, I did an’ all, what of it?”

“Well why are you the one putting the child to bed?”

Alfie sighed deeply, unwilling to explain to the Birmingham man how he, the cunning, fearsome and, if he may say so himself, handsome King of Camden Town was now in fact ruled by the tiny iron fist of the Changretta princess.

“Never the fuck you mind. What do you want?”

“Her daddy hasn’t delivered for you then yet I take it?”

Alfie snorted non-commitally in response, and sat back in his chair, looking across at the little huddled shape of the child, her dark curls barely visible above the blanket. He was suddenly very tired.

“Imagine Tommy,” he mused, settling further into his battered old seat. “Imagine that you could not see. At all - born blind. Then one day, you open up your eyes and you can see everything in the world, when before you could only touch it or smell it. There it is… the revelation, innit?”

The silence on the line was heavy but he ignored it, carrying on, lost in his thoughts.

“I’ve had one. A revelation, I mean. Yeah, I saw a beautiful house down in Margate. A great big white building, monkey puzzle tree against the blue sky. A little piece of heaven. And I thought to myself, Alfie, what are you doing? Why don’t you just sell every ounce of gold and every barrel of rum you got, and just buy yourself some fucking time, mate?”

The clearing of a throat reminded him that Tommy was still there and he roused himself slightly.

“I need to buy myself some time.”

“You’re moving to Margate, Alfie?” He could hear the barely veiled irritation in Tommy’s voice.

“I am actually, yeah. I got to get myself some rest. I need some rest,” he sighed, drumming his fingertips on his desk. “Plus the Americans are here now aren’t they so that’s it. Been that way since the war, ain’t it? Big, fucks small. Always has. Big will fuck small.” He leant on the emphasis at the end, knowing even without seeing him the tight expression on Tommy’s face.

“Well before you go, do you think you could do one last thing for me, while I end this war?”

Alfie chucked. No matter how many times he fucked this man over, he always came back for more. There was something oddly reassuring about his consistency in this mad modern world.

“Hmmm… you see though, Tommy, I already know how it ends, don’t I? Big. Fucks. Small.”

There was the pained sigh of a man who was barely hanging on to his temper in his ear and he grinned. He would miss this, driving Tommy Shelby to distraction just, for the fun of it, when he retired.

“Just hear me out, will you? For old time’s sake?”

*****

Matteo was still in the room when Luca came roaring up the stairs, bursting in.

“The fuck you doing in here? Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Sorry boss, she needed to go to the john.”

Luca threw you a filthy look and you did your best to look apologetic for your bodily functions.

“Get out. My mother’s downstairs, go look after her. I need a minute with my wife.”

You could feel yourself staring at him like he had grown a second head. His mother?? What the fuck was Audrey doing here?!

“Your mother is here?” you asked, unable to keep yourself quiet but he ignored you, following Matteo to the door, speaking in a low voice. Even straining as you did, you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

He turned abruptly, catching you leaning forward to try and make out his words, an evil smirk spreading across his face as he walked towards you.

“Now we’ll see your lies unravel, principessa. Let’s see you try and deceive my mother - she is no fool!”

“What’s she doing here?”

He shifted slightly and you knew him too well not to see that her arrival had nothing to do with him. In a fit of pique, you decided to turn the screw. If he was going to kill you anyway, you might as well hurt him too.

“Why haven’t you rescued Chiara from Solomons yet? Call yourself a father.”

His lip curled at the contempt in your tone. How dare you have the audacity to sit there, his captive, and criticise him? In three strides he had his hands around your throat and you were quickly regretting your actions as you struggled for breath.

“You fucking puttana, I’ll fucking—”

“LUCA! Basta! Stop!” Audrey burst into the room and he dropped you in an instant. You fell forward, pulling your aching shoulders painfully as you coughed, wheezed and gasped for breath.

“Santo cielo…” she gasped, pushing past him to get to you, gently rubbing your back as you slowly regained control of your breathing.

She ran her eyes over you as you did so. Was this the same woman she had kissed goodbye to just two months previously? Gone were your shining, perfectly arranged curls. Your clothes were rumpled and covered in dirt. As she tilted your chin up she could see dried blood on your chin, your bottom lip split above it and there was very faint old bruising on your cheek. Dark marks were forming around your neck, above another set, just barely discernible below.

“Audrey?” you croaked.

She turned, stony faced, towards her son.

“What way is this to treat the mother of your child? Untie her at once.”

“Mamma, she’s a traitor, she—”

She ignored his excuses and moved behind you, pulling at the knots, making you wince as the rope tugged painfully against your raw skin. But at last it fell loose once more. You pulled your hands away quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around your middle.

“Leave us,” she said, standing before you once more, not looking at him as she spoke.

“Ma—”

“Do as you’re fucking told, Luca,” she snapped, nostrils flaring as she spun toward him.

He cursed under his breath and stormed from the room, the door banging loudly behind him.

She turned back towards you. “My son has made some very serious accusations against you. I think you had better tell me everything. And no lies, I will know.”

You nodded, trying to work out where to even begin.

*****

It took a long time to tell her the events of the last month and, conscious of her shrewd watchful eye, you did your best to be honest, lying only occasionally and by omission. She did not need to know you had been unfaithful to her son - not that you had ever really considered it as such; in your mind when you let Tommy take you to bed, Luca was no longer your husband. Nor did she need to know just how far your feelings for Tommy had been reignited, though you suspected she could probably guess from the little you did say about your time in his house.

“And the baby?” she asked finally as your story drew to a close. “Luca tells me you’re pregnant. Are you?”

You took a deep breath.

“I am. Polly Gray told me, you know how she is? I let her read my tea leaves, for old time’s sake - it was just supposed to be a joke. I didn’t expect her to tell me that, though I think deep down I already suspected.”

She stared at you long and hard for a moment.

“Polly is never wrong about these things,” she sighed at last, and you nodded in agreement.

“Well,” she continued, exhaling tiredly. “We should get you back to the hotel and cleaned up. You must be desperate for a bath.”

Fear and uncertainty began to trickle down your spine.

“What do you mean, the hotel? I’m not going anywhere with him.”

“You’re having his child, cara mia, you’re his wife. It’s time to come home.”

You pushed off the chair and retreated back across the room, away from her.

“Did you not hear me, Audrey? Your son, my husband,” you spat the word like it left a foul taste in your mouth, “beat and raped me! And just now he tried to kill me with his own hands! I’m not going back there.”

She approached you and you backed away until you ran out of room and you found only the cold, rough wall behind you.

“I know, and his behaviour has been abominable. I will speak to him,” she said gently but you could only shudder. “But you are a Changretta, Y/N. You are the mother of a Changretta, two Changrettas,” she placed a hand on your still flat stomach. “You made a promise before our Lord. You will honour that promise.”

Tears began to prick your eyes as panic flowed through you. This couldn’t be happening. How could she do this to you? Fucking mothers and their sons.

“Please, no, I can’t go back to him. Not after what he did to me.”

She placed her hands on your shaking shoulders, muttering soothingly as the tears broke free of your control and began to slip quickly down your cheeks.

“Hush now, don’t upset yourself - it’s bad for the baby. Don’t worry about Luca, I will speak to him. I will see that he leaves you alone and behaves.”

Before you could stop her, she called out for assistance and moving as if in a trance, you found yourself being taken back downstairs. You brushed past Luca by the door and heard him call angrily to his mother as you were ushered into the back of the waiting car.

As you were driven away, Audrey’s hand on yours, you twisted to look back at the house. How would you ever explain to Polly that you had left Michael behind..?

*****

When you woke the following morning every single part of your body was screaming in agony. When you had got back to the hotel, Luca stalked off towards the bar and you fled to Chiara and Barbara’s old room and locked the door. You cried yourself to sleep, still in your filthy clothes, as you hugged one of your daughter’s stuffed animals to your chest, breathing in the scent of her that still clung to it.

Dragging yourself from the crumpled sheets you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door. You didn’t even know the woman who stared back at you, gaunt featured and sallow skinned, hair hanging loose and lank, pulled from your pins by your fall and Luca’s rough hands the day before.

Your other injuries from the fall were now also making themselves known. It was like every muscle had been pulled, every joint jolted. You stiffly began to undress, wincing but unsurprised to see bruises blooming across your hips, arms, back and legs. Angry red welts shone at your wrists and bruises had formed around your neck, another purple necklace you would have to try and hide.

You drew a bath as you tried to untangle the knots that had formed in your hair after living wild over the last few days. Audrey wasn’t wrong when she said you were ready to be clean again.

But at what cost, you thought, picturing Michael alone in that terrible place. Please let him survive, you begged a god you had long ceased to believe in.

*****

He sat in the armchairs by the fire with his mother. Y/N had refused to leave the bedroom all day, only accepting a clean set of clothes and a tray of food, the lock clunking back into place after each was delivered and she would only allow Audrey to deliver them.

“She’s a liar,” he repeated tensely.

“I could see the bruises, Luca,” she shot back. “And I’ve known that girl since she was a child. She wasn’t lying.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking a gulp of his whiskey. Sure he’d been rough with you. Tough. You needed reminding where your loyalties lay. But rape? You were his wife, the suggestion was absurd.

He had a flash of memory, you wailing and struggling against the wall opposite where he now sat, begging him to stop.

He shoved it away, his stomach churning.

“You need to apologise. Show her you mean it, if you ever want to be a family again when this Shelby business is over.”

He seized at the opportunity to change the subject.

“I had a note from Tommy Shelby earlier. They want to parlay.”

Audrey sat back and considered this news for a moment, swilling the liquid in her glass thoughtfully.

“And what do you think about that?”

“I think he can go fuck himself,” he spat, sinking another inch from his glass.

She studied him for a moment, this wrathful, cold man who used to be her son. She hadn’t wanted to bring Y/N back here with him but what choice did she have? He wasn’t about to let her walk away and she could hardly leave her to freeze in her own filth in that dilapidated farmhouse with Polly Gray’s boy. She was her daughter-in-law and she was pregnant. All she could do now was try and reverse the damage he had caused, help her son find the man he used to be.

“I think there is a way you can end this without further bloodshed. Providing the Shelbys cooperate. And now you have two of the people the heads of the family care about the most, you will have their undivided attention.

PART 25

It’s the showdown you’ve all been waiting for next week… are you ready?? 😬 I’m not sure I am 😂 Thank you to everyone who had been reading and commenting and sending me love for this story - you have no idea how much it means to me 🤍 Please do keep it coming! 🤍

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @ladygreythethird (unable to tag) , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhore , @majesticcmey , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @itssamlavadaa, @quarterpastmidnight , @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 (unable to tag) , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel , @vivre-dans-la-nuit , @woofgocows , @esposadomd

#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

This picture just came up on Tumblr ads and freaked me the hell out. I was like "WHY DOES THIS PERSON NOT HAVE A HEAD? No wonder they're shaking their fists in rage and- oh, it's a mannequin."

My brain, besties. This is where we're at right now. xD

#claire speaks utter shite #these pills tho #fuckin' 'ell!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Observations from a painkiller-addled mind...

Earlier, I decided for no reason in particular that I wanted to be known as Claude, going forward. No idea why.

Making an omelette legit felt like it took about three weeks to prepare and four to eat.

I feel very sleepy, but also WIDE AWAKE. I just spelt awake as awakeke. AWAKEKE.

Taking a shower when you have no support in either knee or your back is the scariest risk sport experience you can ever have in a bathroom bar none. It's like being at Alton Towers, but you're naked and the space is smaller.

I'll probably have more to say the further doped up I become.

#stoned on painkillers #ddd speaks #claire says stuff #weeeeeeeeee

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Ohhh how unfair it is to be bed bound and not because I have sexy shenanigans going on. Nope. My back is out again, as are both of my knees. I legit can’t even move at the moment. Thank goodness my husband works from home so he can come and help me dress. Doubt I’ll even be able to read or write anything today because I’m on STRONG painkillers which are going to knock me into an addled stupor shortly.

Yeah there might be posts from me jazzed out of my mind, though. Hahahaha 🤣🤣🤣🤣

#ddd speaks #claire says stuff #personal #ohhh this SUCKS BUM

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Hi Claire! I hope you’ve been well! ☺️

I just wanted to stop in and say hi .. oh and also leave something that might brighten your day.

These Mutts have always made me smile, so I thought they might make you smile too.

Sending much love your way! 🧡

Hello my darling, how lovely to see you pop up ♥️ and what a cute cartoon! I’ve been better, currently suffering a bad back and knees which means I legit can’t move. How are you? I hope all well 💕

[darklydeliciousdesires]

This is what having Rishi Sunak as PM has done for us. How do I know? I was the horseman War. He laid me off because “budget cuts.” Told him nobody would see his discount, pound shop apocalypse for the real deal without the full squad, but no.

At least Boris wouldn’t have done us like this. 😂

which is definitely not an omen

[darklydeliciousdesires]

All of the above. Some of y’all are mannerless when it comes to requests. No hello, no thank you, you just type what you want and hit send.

NEWSFLASH: We’re people, not ChatGPT.

About requests

My loves, y'all know how much I love talking to you and how much I adore writing your requests. BUT: I feel like there are a few things we need to remember about requesting – things I notice with messages my mutuals receive as well:

Please be kind, start with a hello or something

It doesn't hurt to use "please" and "thank you"

We aren't getting any money for this, we do this in our free time, so please accept that we don't always want to write every request – don't demand stuff from us as if we work for you

As much as some of us would love to be able to read your mind, we can't, so please be specific with the things you want to read

It may sound stuck up and arrogant, but I simply ignore requests that are just idea dumps without any pleasantries. This is why I am now closing my requests once again, because most of the requests I received lately are just rude or demands I don't want to follow. I hope y'all understand this! <3

#louder for the people in the back #how not to be a dick #tumblr etiquette #request etiquette #requests #please remember this #used alex’s tags because they were perfect

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Oh look it’s Jen from Sky Full of Stars 🤣🤣

[darklydeliciousdesires]

[darklydeliciousdesires]

He has found his tiny brethren, whether they wanted to be or not. 🤣🤣

capybara

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Oh, the emotional rollercoaster of this chapter was fucking EPIC! And then the ending, mama Changretta there? Alex, the twists and turns of this are absolutely thrilling me and I want to read more, but I am very, very tired and can't even manage another paragraph right now, no matter how much I want to!

Hello darlings, thank you for the patience this week but you are rewarded with a bumper chapter which I very much hope will have been worth the wait! 🤍 As ever, do let me know in all the usual ways! xx

Summary: News spreads back to Small Heath of the attack on the camp, leaving the Shelbys reeling and Tommy in need of a plan. Y/N comes face to face with Luca and reveals shocking news. But is it the truth and will it be enough to save her life?

Warnings: Usual bad language. Mentions of violence and injuries but nothing too graphic.

Word count: 5197 PART 22 | SERIES

Part 23: Truths Within The Lies

There had been nothing Bonnie could do to protect you when the Italians arrived and started firing indiscriminately around the camp. At first he tried to get the women and children out of harms way, calm the horses who were stamping and screaming at the noise. He had seen you go over the ridge of the hill earlier and hoped you might have been able to make a run for it but as he tried to edge his way towards where you might be the heavy butt of a gun hit the back of his head and he didn’t remember much for a while after that.

When he came to there was smoke in the air and the sobbing and groaning of the scared and injured. As his vision slowly blurred back into focus he saw you, with a lurch in his chest, being held as an impeccably dressed, tall, lean, dark haired man make his way towards you. His hand caressed your cheek and even through his haze and the blood trickling into his eye from a cut he must have sustained when he fell, he could tell that you were holding yourself tightly against reacting.

This could only be your husband, he thought, as he tried to sit up without attracting unwanted attention. The action made him want to be sick and he had to take long slow breaths, burying his hands in the coarse grass either side of him.

When he refocused, the man was speaking to you, too softly for him to hear, and then he saw him curl his fist into your hair, yanking your head back. He heard you cry out in pain as the man smirked.

He wanted to run, wanted to stop it as he saw you being manhandled into one of the cars, a bag pulled over your head. He was a fighter, a good one, and he wanted to land a knock-out blow on every single one of them. But he held back; he was hurt and he was smart enough to know that interfering now would only serve to get him killed.

As the cars drove away, he realised with a jolt of fear, that his father was on the ground near where they had been. Ignoring his complaining body he scrambled to his feet and ran, swaying slightly, dropping to his knees beside Aberama.

“Father?” he said urgently, shaking the older man. Up close he could see the cuts on his face, causing most of the blood, were superficial but he had sustained a heavy blow to the side of his head and it was oozing dark red blood, his pale hair matted and sticky with it.

Aberama groaned, eyelids flickering, squinting against the light as Bonnie’s face hoved into view.

“Did they get the girl? Michael?” he rasped, his tongue thick in his mouth, nausea washing over him as he tried to sit up.

“Don’t try and move, I’ll get help,” his son replied, gently pushing him back.

“You need to tell Polly.” He fished awkwardly in his pocket producing a piece of paper with a series of numbers. “Tell her I failed her.”

*****

Tommy was frantic as he waited for Johnny Dogs to get to the betting shop. He had no way of contacting you, no way of even knowing where you were, without Aberama. What had been a deliberate plan to keep you safe was now feeling like the most catastrophic error in judgement.

“Please will you sit down,” said Ada softly from the chair by his desk as she chain-smoked her way through her cigarette case.

He shot her a look. How the fuck was he supposed to sit down when for all he knew, you were in mortal danger. All he could hope was that they hadn’t moved on the camp yet, that he would have enough time to get you and Michael to safety.

“Tommy!” boomed Arthur, striding through the shop, Johnny hot on his heels.

“What have you heard?” he asked urgently, meeting them halfway.

“I can’t raise Aberama,” confessed Arthur. “He’s not in any of the usual places and no one’s seen him.”

He swore under his breath, feeling his pulse racing, a chilly film of sweat prickling on his back, making his expensive shirt stick to him. He turned his attention to the Romani man.

“Can you find them, Dogs?”

Johnny looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I can try Tom, but the Boswells… they know how to disappear. They follow the Patrin and the crows - they could be anywhere by now.” He saw the haunted, wild look in Tommy’s eye and swallowed. “I have people I can talk to, but it’ll take time.”

Tommy pressed his fingertips into his eyes briefly, a cigarette still smouldering in his hand. Time was precisely what he didn’t have.

The phone in his office began to ring, its shrill clamouring interrupting his brooding. He heard Ada leap to answer it.

“Leave it!” he shouted before she could touch the receiver, getting there and grabbing it himself.

“Mr Shelby?” The voice on the line was urgent and breathless.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Bonnie Gold, Mr Shelby, sir.”

His heart stopped, fingers gripping the side of the desk until his knuckles turned white as he waited for him to continue.

“The Italians have just attacked the camp, sir. They… they’ve taken Y/N and Michael. I’m sorry sir, they came out of nowhere. I think they got to my father somehow, he’s badly injured.”

He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t seem to breathe. If Luca had you, you were as good as dead.

“Mr Shelby?”

“What is it, brother?” asked Arthur, unnerved by Tommy’s stillness and the grey pallor that had washed over his skin.

Ada gently took the earpiece from his hand.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Bonnie Gold, ma’am. The Italians have turned us over. They’ve got Y/N and Michael. My father is hurt. We have a lot of injured,” he repeated, not entirely sure who he was talking to.

“Fuck!” she hissed, turning to Arthur. “Changretta has attacked the camp, he’s got them both.”

Arthur swore loudly and banged a fist against the tabletop.

“Bonnie, I’m going to give you to Johnny so you can tell us where you are and we’ll get help sent to you,” she said into the phone before handing it across.

As Johnny took the details, she turned to Tommy, who had slumped into the chair she had just vacated, head in his hands.

“Tom,” she ran her hand over his shoulder. “Look at me.” Slowly he lifted his face to hers. “We will get them back, Tom. We will.”

He hadn’t even noticed Arthur leaving the room until he returned, thumping down a large measure of whiskey beside him.

“Drink.”

He sank it in one, coughing slightly, holding out the glass for another. Arthur poured and took a seat behind the desk.

“So what’re we gonna do then, eh, Tom?”

*****

The drive to the place they took you seemed to take forever as your mind raced under the stinking burlap sack they had pulled over your head. In the midst of all your jumbled thoughts and fears you found yourself questioning how it was possible you had managed to end up being abducted like this twice in less than a fortnight. It was so absurd that if you weren’t so frightened you could laugh.

You tensed as you heard a change in tone as the tyres left the smoother surface of the road, crunching on gravel. It had barely come to a standstill when strong hands were on you, pushing and pulling you out of the vehicle. You felt the shift in atmosphere as you were quickly led indoors but the air was cold, even through your layers from being outdoors at the camp, and you realised distantly that you must have lost your shawl in the struggle.

You stumbled slightly as your unseen captors manhandled you up a flight of stairs. From the chill and the echo as your boots connected with bare wooden floors, you deduced with a sinking feeling that it must be some abandoned place. Though really, it would have been too much to hope he would take you back to the hotel.

Ahead, you heard someone swear in Italian and the sound of a struggle. You froze and arms grabbed your shoulders, pulling you away from the noise of something, or more accurately, someone hitting the ground with a groan.

“Try that again and we’ll kill you,” growled your husband‘s voice. The warning was followed by a series of sickening thuds and you couldn’t help but conjure images of Michael on the ground as boots connected with his body. A soft whimper escaped you and for a moment you struggled against your holder but they were stronger and you were pulled backwards, the noise diminishing.

You were dumped unceremoniously on an uncomfortable upright chair, your arms pulled roughly behind you as someone tied your hands with a coarse rope that began to bite your skin the moment it was in place.

The sound of retreating boots echoed around the room and you could feel your breath coming in rapid, panicky bursts. You squeezed your eyes shut beneath the hood and tried to calm yourself, pulling in long, slow breaths.

Even if by some miracle Tommy knew where the fuck you were and was coming for you, it wouldn’t be fast enough. Would he even know you were missing yet? Either way, you were going to have to get out of this one yourself. Think Y/N, think!

*****

Ada had wanted to be the one to tell her but he knew it needed to come from him. Because when she found out, there was a better than even chance she might shoot someone and better it be him than his sister. This was all his fault, after all.

He found her at the hospital where Lizzie had been taken to treat her injuries, smoking her black clove cigarettes in the waiting room and glaring at every member of staff who might have been about to suggest she put it out.

“Pol,” he said softly and she was out of her chair in a heartbeat, heels clacking on the tiled floor as she approached.

“Well? Did you find Aberama?” Her dark eyes were wide and fearful.

“Why don’t we go—”

“Oh fuck!” she wailed, a hand coming to clasp her mouth. “No. No! You tell me he’s alright or I’ll—”

He gently steered her into an empty examining room. A young nurse in a crisp starched uniform appeared as he went to close the door, her mouth open to remonstrate. But seeing his dark expression she thought better of it and simply set her mouth in a grim line of disapproval, nodded slightly, and walked away.

When he turned, Polly was on a new cigarette, smoking it like it had offended her.

“As far as I know, he’s alive. They both are,” he began as calmly as possible. “Changretta’s men attacked the camp with no warning, Aberama’s injured and there’s others dead. But they took them alive, which is something. If they wanted them dead, they’d have done it there.”

She turned from staring out the window and he could see tears in her eyes. This strong woman, with her formidable, unyielding, exterior. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her cry. Not even when John died, or not in front of him at least.

“Pol…” he made half a movement towards her and she waved a hand at him in irritation.

“Don’t. I’m fine,” she said briskly, quickly brushing the few escaping drops from her cheeks and squaring her shoulders. Her armour in place once more.

“What’s the plan?”

He nodded and motioned for her to sit as he lit a smoke of his own and settled to share the threads of the plan that he had been developing since he left the betting shop.

*****

You were left alone in the dark for what felt like hours. It probably wasn’t more than thirty minutes but it was plenty of time for the creeping dread to spread through you entirely. Through the wall you could hear the thuds and groans as your husband interrogated Michael. Wincing in sympathy, you struggled against your bonds but the knots were tight and all you succeeded in doing was burning your wrists against the ropes until they stung.

And then it was quiet again. You wondered if he’d killed him. How long would it be before he killed you..?

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again, tesoro.” His voice made you jump and although you couldn’t see a thing through the heavy burlap sack, you couldn’t help but turn your head rapidly left and right, searching for his voice. You hadn’t heard him come in.

You heard him chuckle darkly at your panic and footsteps approached you. You tried desperately to control your fear. You only had one shot at getting out of this alive.

The hood was pulled from your head and you took grateful lungfuls of air that wasn’t tainted by the rank material. He was standing before you, looming over you with a smug expression. A darkness in those hazel eyes you had fallen in love with once upon a time.

You dug deep, trying to remember how he made you feel before the only things you felt for him were loathing and contempt.

“Why are you doing this amore?” you murmured, your voice shaky which was in no way an act. “It’s me. Why are you treating me like this?”

He shook his head and made a soft tutting sound, regarding you as one might a child, too young to understand the complex nature of current events. Slowly he began to stalk in a wide circle around your chair and you followed him as best you could, keen to keep him in your sights. You might not be able to fight back easily, but at least you could be prepared.

He stopped behind you, leaning forward with both his hands on the back of the chair, his breath tickling the side of your neck. You fought not to squirm away from it, the sensation bringing back terrible memories.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N, it doesn’t suit you.”

You could feel panic sparking under your skin, your heart racing in your chest.

“Luca, please… I don’t understand…you can’t honestly believe—”

“Can’t I?!” he roared, tangling a large hand in your hair, yanking your head back painfully until you had no choice but to look him in his blazing eyes. “You think it’s hard for me to believe that you ran to him? Your lover? He had you living in his fucking house with him, like a common whore!”

“No! You have it all wrong, please, please Luca, please let me explain,” you begged, feeling tears spring to your eyes, your scalp burning.

He grunted and released his grip, continuing his circle.

“Darling, I’m so sorry, of course I can see why you might think that but it couldn’t be more wrong,” you stammered. “But please believe me, I didn’t go to them, I was taken against my will, kidnapped in the street. I would never have left you, cucciolone!”

He snorted at your use of your familiar pet name.

“They… they took me to his house because, I assume, it was supposed to be the most heavily guarded place they had available. I didn’t want to go with them and once I was there, I couldn’t escape.”

“Bullshit! I sent fucking men to get you back and you fucking shot them, Y/N!”

Shit…you had been hoping he might not know it was you that killed those men. Time to think fast Y/N, you told yourself.

“Because I thought they were coming to kill me! They broke into the house with guns and no indication they were there to save me. I was alone, I was afraid, I heard gunfire and I retaliated. I didn’t, I don’t, want to die.”

He stopped in front of you looking deeply unconvinced.

“Why did you even have a gun? What kind of hostage has a fucking weapon??”

“I stole it,” you said, quick as a flash. “You’re right, of course you’re right, that Tommy Shelby and I have history. I was able to use that to my advantage.”

“Puttana,” he growled and you rushed on.

“Not like that! Just.. I know him, he felt guilty when he discovered it was me he had abducted so he was easy to manipulate. I was able to convince him to let me move around freely around the house - there were guards all around so there was nowhere I could go anyway. But he was careless, and one day he left a spare gun in his room and I took it. I thought maybe when the time was right I could use it to make my escape. When the men came, I didn’t realise what I’d done until it was too late.”

He slapped you hard across the face and you winced, tasting copper in your mouth.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!”

The tears that followed were not a lie. The hopelessness of your situation pressing hard upon you. Your chances of survival seemed to be dwindling by the second.

“I’m not,” you sobbed, sucking delicately on your split lip. “I swear I’m not.”

“You ran away from me at that fucking gypsy camp, Y/N! You really expect me to believe a word that comes out of your poisonous mouth?” he snarled, grabbing your chin, pinching your cheeks roughly.

“I was AFRAID!” you choked back, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. “You just showed up and started shooting! I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire so I ran! I was frightened, Luca!” Your tears dripped onto his fingers and he dropped you with a look of disgust.

“Please Luca, please, I have been frightened since the day they took me. Afraid I would never get back to you, afraid I would never see my baby again.” Your voice cracked as you mentioned Chiara, a heavy, gutteral sob wracking through you. Would you ever see her again now? She was so little…would she even remember you after he killed you? The thought only made you cry harder.

“Why did they take you there?” he asked as you struggled to get control of yourself.

“Because…because of how easily you got to me at the house,” you sniffed. “They needed me somewhere that even most of them wouldn’t be able to find.”

Which begged the question, how had he found you? You wanted to ask but now wasn’t the time for that.

“You could have run away at any time, if you were so desperate to get back to me. Why didn’t you?”

You fixed him with a glare. “You think I was free there? Watched by a whole camp of sharp eyed women and thugs? If I’d made one false move I would’ve been in trouble. My only focus was staying alive so I could get back to you and our daughter.”

You opened your eyes wide, pleading with him to buy your story. Lying with every fibre in your being.

His lips disappeared into a thin line as he stared at you intently. Your face was blotchy and your cheeks were wet with tears. Crocodile tears he wanted to believe, but there was an earnestness, an honesty to you that he hadn’t been anticipating. Was it possible that you really had been kept prisoner all this time?

*****

Tommy pulled up at the camp with Johnny as night was falling, finding it still smouldering and in disarray. Climbing out of his car, he gathered his long black coat closer around him and paused to take in the devastation as he lit a cigarette.

He’d left Polly, eventually, back at the house on Watery Lane, where Ada could keep an eye on her.

“Mr Shelby.” Bonnie came rushing towards him, a nasty gash above his eye.

“How’s your father? Can he talk?” he asked, following as Bonnie nodded and set off towards one of the wagons. He could feel stares tracking his movements, animosity radiating from the surviving members of the community. They had lost men fighting a war, his war, that they had no real stake in. No amount of money or gold was worth the loss of good men.

He nodded at Johnny to stay outside and keep watch as he cambered into the vardo, grateful to be beyond view. Aberama was laid out on the bed, his face a patchwork of cuts and bruises, a bandage tied around his head.

“Mr Gold,” he nodded, taking a seat. Across from him sat an older woman he didn’t know but he could guess she was Delia Boswell, the matriarch of the camp.

“Our men are dead because of you, Mr Shelby,” she began, cutting Aberama off before he’d even had a chance to open his mouth. “You’ve got a lot of brass showing up here unprotected.”

He cleared his throat and nodded his respect to her. “Madam Boswell, I had nothing to do with what happened here today and the loss of your people is as keen a loss to me as it is to you. We’re kin - you know my grandmother was a Boswell - and believe me, their loss will not go unpunished.”

She sniffed and settled herself back in her chair, staring imperiously down her nose at him.

He turned. “Aberama, I need to know everything you can tell me about who took Michael and Y/N, what kind of vehicles they had and anything else you know about where they might have gone.”

*****

“You’re good, you know that?” Luca smirked, wagging a long finger at you. “You nearly had me there.”

You fought to keep the fear and frustration from your face.

“Please amore,” you begged softly.

“Amore? You keep saying that principessa but you see, I know the truth.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs as he slipped a toothpick between his teeth.

“Yes, you see I know who you were planning to visit that morning you disappeared, amore.” He over-enunciated the word, voice dripping with bitterness.

Oh shit. Shit, shit, SHIT! You could feel your hands shaking behind your back and laced your fingers together, squeezing tightly to try and stop the tremors.

You nodded slowly. “Ok, I can see why you’re angry. But can you blame me for acting rashly, caro mio? After what happened between us?” His expression darkened at the reminder of his brutality. “You hurt me, Luca,” you added in a whisper, appealing to whatever shreds of good nature might be left inside him.

“And so you thought you could just leave me?” he snapped and you flinched as he started toward you.

“No! I mean, maybe, just for a moment. Please!” you shouted hurriedly as his hands balled into fists. “Luca, I was angry, I was in pain, I wasn’t thinking straight. Even on the way there I decided not to go through with it but whilst I was dithering on the pavement someone pulled a bag over my head and threw me into a van. Ironically, if I’d gone ahead with it, they might not have been quick enough to get me.”

He closed the distance between you and wrapped his palm around your throat. You whimpered and struggled but he just squeezed more tightly.

“I think you’re a lying little bitch and your stories aren’t going to save you now,” he hissed, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath. The edges of your vision began to blur.

“Please,” you gasped and he relaxed his grip just enough to allow you to suck in oxygen. “You really think I would actually leave you, Luca? Leave my family? I love you,” you whispered, eyes boring into his, lying, quite literally, to save your life. “You gave me everything, amore. A life I could only have dreamed of. A beautiful daughter…” Again you choked, thinking of her. “You think I would just walk away from that?”

He let go of your throat, resting his hands over your shoulders on the back of the chair. Eye to eye, he studied you intently but you thought you could see him wavering so you tried again.

“I made the appointment because I was upset. I wasn’t thinking rationally. But I would never, ever have gone through with it. I swear. You are all I ever wanted, I love you, Luca.”

He grunted, pushing himself back upright, running his fingertips down your damp cheek almost tenderly.

“And Tommy Shelby?”

You pulled a face of disgust. “Tommy Shelby means nothing to me. I should have told you the truth, back before any of this happened. Yes I did love him once, a long time ago. But he cheated on me, got another girl pregnant…”

You saw Luca’s lips curve into a whisper of a smile that made a shiver run through you.

“…and do you really think I would ever forgive something like that?”

“Seems to me like history’s repeating,” he chuckled dryly. He saw your brow crease in confusion and he realised you didn’t know what he knew.

“What do you mean?”

He stepped back, savouring the moment. He didn’t believe a word of your desperate grovelling attempt to win him over.

“I mean that Tommy Shelby has knocked up that pretty secretary of his. Y’know the one I mean, don’t you?” He grinned, plucking the toothpick from his mouth, twirling it between his fingers as a smirk glimmered in his eyes. “Only she ain’t so pretty now.”

Your blood ran cold. That couldn’t be true. Could it? After everything he said to you, after everything you had done with him… He was having a baby with fucking Lizzie?!

He watched on, enjoying your pale silence.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You shook your head, chasing away a million screaming thoughts. “How…how do you know?”

“Oh Ms Stark has been very useful to me,” he gloated, pacing back and forth before you, chewing on his toothpick with glee.

Oh my god… Lizzie… it was she who had given you up, you realised in horror. You remembered the look of venom in her eye in The Garrison that day of the family meeting. It felt like a lifetime ago. Did she know then she was pregnant? Did Tommy??

“Oh yes,” he nodded, seeing you putting it together in your head, “she was ever so concerned about reuniting us, amore mia.” He grinned sardonically as he watched you try and fail to keep up the pretence of cold indifference.

Tears slipped down your cheeks against your will. You had let yourself love him again and this was how he repaid you? At the camp, talking to Bonnie as you groomed the horses, you had even reached a place of grudging understanding about Chiara - he had been trying to do a good thing. A stupid thing, but with good intentions nonetheless. But this…. once again Tommy Shelby was unable to stop his dick from ruining everything. Had he known all along?? Lied to you once again?? It was like a knife between your ribs, old wounds torn open.

“Tell me again how you don’t have feelings for Tommy Shelby, principessa?” Luca murmured, coming close to you.

You looked broken, stripped of your lies, ready to die. But he had no intention of letting you die so easily. He was going to take his time with you; he was sure you still had Shelby secrets to share.

As he grinned down at you wickedly, you began to speak, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know you want to kill me Luca and you can if you want. But you should know that if you do, it’s not just me you’re killing.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You lifted your tear stained face to look him in the eye. “I mean Lizzie Stark isn’t the only one having a baby. I’m pregnant,” you said quietly.

He stared at you, certain this was another lie, another trick, another grasp at a stay of execution.

“Bullshit.”

“Polly told me,” you said quietly, recalling your last conversation with her over tea leaves. A solemn composure settled over you as you stared up at your husband. “She told me before I went to the camp. She is never wrong about these things - you can ask Michael.”

Assuming Michael was still alive, you added silently to yourself, very much hoping he was.

“You’re a liar. You’ve done nothing but lie from the moment I brought you here,” he hissed, his sharp features tight with barely contained fury.

You shrugged awkwardly. “Maybe I am. But maybe I’m not. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can keep me alive or you can kill me and cut me open to find out.”

He stared at you long and hard before apparently coming to a decision in his head. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the room, the rickety door banging closed behind him.

*****

It was late when the car pulled up at the hotel and Luca climbed wearily from it. Your words were still rolling around his brain as he walked towards his suite. Michael had been too dazed from his beating to confirm your claim about his mother, but even he had heard the rumours about Polly Gray’s witchcraft.

Another baby - his baby? His head told him it had to be a lie but his heart wanted it to be true. Underneath his rage at your behaviour he couldn’t deny that, seeing you again, part of him was still in love with you. Maybe another child was what was needed for you to rebuild from current wreckage of your marriage.

Yes, he would kill Tommy Shelby and cut out that part of you for good, he would get Chiara back, and he would take you all home to be a family. A happy family once again.

Resolving himself to this plan, he opened the door and shrugged off his coat, dropping his hat on top of the coat stand.

“There are you, tesorino.”

The voice floating across the room made him jump a mile, his gun in his hand as he whirled towards it.

“Well that’s no way to welcome your mother,” said Audrey dryly from her seat by the fire.

“Mamma! Cristo santo! What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me - I could have shot you!”

He crossed the room, dropping his gun on the desk, meeting her in a tight hug.

“I thought it was about time I came over to see what’s taking you so long,” she said as she disentangled herself from his embrace, standing back to fix him with a hard stare.

“But first I think you’d better explain to me where your wife and my granddaughter are, don’t you think?”

PART 24

Well… was it worth the wait? 😬 Do we think she’s telling the truth about the baby? Are we excited to see mamma Changretta back on the scene? 🤭 We’re getting close to the end now friends, I hope you’re ready! (Still at least two, if not three, chapters to go though before you get too sad about it 😉). Come at me in the comments! xx

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @ladygreythethird (unable to tag) , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhore , @majesticcmey , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @itssamlavadaa, @quarterpastmidnight , @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 (unable to tag) , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel , @vivre-dans-la-nuit , @woofgocows , @esposadomd , @elenavampire21

#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

[BOLTING BACK VODKA] This is me right now, but with my vape...

This story has me by the bloody tits, Alex!!!!!! I am breathing into a paper bag. There's an ambulance on standby. I have my blood pressure machine ready. [SCREAMING AND ROCKING BACK AND FORTH]

Welcome back lovely readers! I hope you’re ready for some (well, more) DRAMA because there is lot going on in this chapter! 😬 Also, in case you missed it, for some light relief I shared a little one shot of Chiara’s exploits with Alfie at the weekend which you can read HERE. Let’s do this, shall we?

Summary: When Lizzie doesn’t show up for work for several days, Polly goes to investigate. At the same time, Tommy gets some shocking news, and at the camp, Y/N and Michael resolve their differences before the real world intrudes once more.

Warnings: [contains spoilers] reference to violence, injuries and pregnancy loss. Bad language. One reference to past sexual assault.

Word count: 4515 PART 21 | SERIES

Part 22: The Fall

He wasn’t surprised when Lizzie was reported to have called in sick on the Monday morning. She was punishing him for not being able to give her what she wanted and he could understand that. He was well acquainted with that crushing feeling inside the chest of loving but not being loved in return.

The same crushing feeling he carried around with him now, desolation at having lost once more what he had been so close to getting back. The cold, empty space in his bed. Had it only been two nights you’d shared together? In some ways it felt like a lifetime, that strange week in his house.

But when she didn’t return to work the next day, or the day after that, he began to become irritated. She ran his fucking office, she couldn’t just piss off when she felt like it just to punish him. This was a fucking business.

“I’ll go,” said Polly, halting him at the door of his office, trapping them both inside with a stern look on her face. “With that temper you’re carrying these days you’d be as like to kill her as anything.”

He shifted his weight, frowning at his aunt. “She’s doing it deliberately. It’s a fucking temper tantrum.”

Polly was a smart woman and she was well aware of what delicate predicament Lizzie and Tommy found themselves in. She’d known before either of them. She could always tell.

“That’s as may be but you’re not going over there to shout at a pregnant woman,” she said dryly, smirking as he shook his head, not even surprised that she knew, and stalked to the whiskey decanter. “I will deal with this, she will come back. And in the meantime, you had better think long and hard about what you want to do about the baby. Because whether you like it or not, it’s a Shelby.”

“It’s not my fucking child,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette and knocking back a hefty shot.

“Just because she’s not Y/N, doesn’t mean the child in her belly isn’t one of us, Thomas.” He shot her a dirty look. “And she didn’t climb on top of herself and get pregnant,” she added meaningfully.

He turned stiffly towards her, eyes burning. “She’ll be taken care of. The baby will be taken care of. But I’m not going to marry her, if that’s what you’re getting at, Pol. I’m not doing that again, not when she’s—” He broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a long drag of his smoke. “Everything will be taken care of.”

She watched him as he stared down into his glass. Of all her nephews, and for all that Arthur was volatile and prone to bouts of darkness, none of them ever worried her more than Tommy. He kept everything so close, so tightly wound and self-contained. She didn’t blame Y/N at all for her reaction to the present whereabouts of her child and his part in it, but it pained her to see his obvious grief at the loss once again of the woman he loved.

And now this baby with Lizzie… even if she came back, she wasn’t sure Y/N would be able to cope with how closely history was repeating. Her heart broke for him. For them both. And while she was at it, for Lizzie too.

What a mess.

“I’ll talk to her,” she said finally, letting herself out of his office as he stared blindly into his whiskey.

*****

She knocked and knocked at the door of Lizzie’s house but there was no reply. Cursing, she went in search of the men who were supposed to be keeping watch. Knocking on the window of their car she saw immediately that something was wrong. Pulling open the door she recoiled, covering her mouth as the smell hit her. Steadying herself she approached again, gently nudging the driver to see his throat had been slit. And judging by the blood on the other, it was clear he had met the same fate.

She rushed back to Lizzie’s and hammered on the door. When she continued to have no response she hurried around the back. Cupping her eyes she pressed her face against the kitchen window and could see signs of a struggle inside. Heart thudding against her ribs she turned the handle of the back door and breathed a sigh of relief when she found it was, miraculously, open.

Slipping her gun from her handbag she quietly let herself inside. The furniture was disrupted and broken china was strewn about the table and floor. A chair was overturned and, on closer inspection, she could see blood on the floor. Cursing silently she moved from the back to the front room, finding nothing and no one. She slipped her heels off at the bottom of the stairs to deaden the sound of her feet against the wooden stairs and eased herself slowly up to the first floor.

Pushing open the bedroom door, she wasn’t prepared for the sight that awaited her.

*****

The wind whipped your hair, filling your lungs with the sweet chill of early morning. For all your resistance to coming, now you were here you realised how much you needed it. Space and time away from the filth of the last few months and especially the last two weeks. No Luca with his violence and vitriol, no Tommy with those desperate eyes that wanted more from you than you could give.

You swallowed, pushing down the feelings that just thinking of those eyes stirred in you.

You were better like this. Alone. Free.

Except alone wasn’t quite right when the thing you missed most was the warm weight of Chiara in your arms, her bright chatter in your ear. You couldn’t help but imagine her here. She would love it - all this room to run around, the birds and wildlife, the horses.

Tears pricked your eyes and you blinked them away quickly. God you were so fucking sick of crying. You balled your hands into fists. Enough of that. You would get her back. No matter what it took.

A hand in the small of your back brought you back to the present, and a smiling Bonnie, who passed you a tin mug of tea.

“You alright?” he asked gently.

You nodded, returning his smile, wrapping your hands around the mug and holding it to your chest. “There’s spring in the air. You can smell it.”

He chuckled, taking a mouthful from his own mug. “We’ll make a country girl of you yet,” he joked in Romani.

“Who says I’m not already?” you replied in English and he looked slightly taken aback.

“You speak it?”

“I’m rusty, but I was half raised by Shelbys - we all learned it. It used to drive our teachers mad,” you grinned. “It’s been coming back to me over the last few days.”

“You’re full of surprises, Mrs Changretta,” he smirked, nodding his head briefly as he set off to see to the horses’.

*****

“I’m sorry, the line’s engaged, Mr Shelby,” said Nancy at the exchange as he waited impatiently for his call to connect. “Would you like me to try again?”

“No, I’ll try later,” he grunted in response and went to put the phone down when he heard her voice again.

“Mr Shelby, sir, if you have a moment there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” she ventured, the nervous quiver in her voice catching his attention. He urged her to continue, sitting back in his chair as he lit a smoke one handed, blowing a plume of blue grey smoke towards the ceiling.

“Well sir, I know it’s none of my business but—”.

He rolled his eyes.

“Nancy. If you have something to say, please will you spit it out before I get much older, eh?”

She gave a twitter of nervous laughter before getting control of herself.

“Mr Shelby, a week ago I placed a call from your office to a hotel in Stratford.”

He sat forward, frowning. “I never called a hotel in Stratford.” He only knew one person in that town and he had only ever corresponded with him via letter. Perhaps Polly…?

“I know sir, it was for Ms Stark.”

He felt his stomach drop. “And tell me, Nancy - and don’t lie because we all know you girls do it - did you happen to listen to this conversation?”

She stuttered slightly down the line and he fought to urge to shout at her. “Nancy,” he growled softly instead.

“Yes sir. I mean, just for a moment. I.. I was curious, and I know I shouldn’t be..”

“Tell me what you know!”

“She spoke to a Mr Changretta. She told him she could tell him where he could find his wife. I… I didn’t think much of it at the time but I know there’s business going on between your family and Italians and then there was the trouble at your house and.. and I just thought maybe you should know, sir. Sir…?

But Tommy had stopped listening as she rambled, the receiver falling from his hand with a thud.

Fucking Lizzie had betrayed them. Betrayed Y/N. Betrayed him.

Rage surged through him. He could hear Nancy’s plaintive calls, tinny and far away down the line, speaking against the wood of his desk. Grasping the phone he barked his thanks and hung up, out of his chair and heading for the door at speed.

The phone ringing in his office went unheeded as he left, heavy doors banging behind him as he swept past the secretaries with only one thought in his mind.

He would fucking kill her himself.

*****

“Oh holy shit,” Polly muttered under her breath, trying to take in the damage before her. “Lizzie, love?” she said softly, hesitantly approaching the broken woman on the bed. What little she could see of her face was a mess of cuts and bruises, livid purple marks around her throat and over her arms.

But she almost didn’t see them, her attention focussed on the wide, rust coloured blood stain that had soaked and dried across the white sheets and the lap of Lizzie’s nightdress.

“Lizzie?”

Lizzie lifted her head slowly, green eyes dull and distant, the skin that wasn’t marred by vicious injuries deathly pale.

“Go away, Pol,” she rasped, voice dry from lack of use.

“Who did this to you?” Polly replied, ignoring her request, pulling a chair close to the bed, reaching for her hand. Lizzie shrank back away from her, wrapping her bruised arms around her middle. She pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

“Lizzie, tell me. Tommy can—”

“Tommy can what?!” she spat. “Tommy can be fucking relieved now that there’s no fucking baby to worry about?!” Hot, angry tears began to tumble down her cheeks.

Polly’s face softened, reaching for the injured woman and this time she let her, burying her head in her shoulder as sobs wracked her thin frame.

“You need a doctor, love. Let me go and make some calls. And then, when you’re ready, you need to tell me what happened.” She pulled back, cupping Lizzie’s face gently, pushing her hair back. “No one treats one of us like this and lives.”

She made her way downstairs to the phone Tommy had arranged to be installed. Always on hand should he need her. For a moment Polly felt a stab of malice towards her nephew. He knew how Lizzie felt about him, had always felt about him, but he used her all the same and now she had paid the worst price for it.

She called the doctor first and then rang his office. Because regardless of her feelings toward him, there were Blinders dead and one of their closest confidants had been attacked. If it wasn’t Changretta, they needed to know who else they were fighting and Tommy needed to be here.

She hung up, frustrated when no answer came and busied herself for a moment, righting the kitchen a little and making tea.

A noise behind her made her turn to find Lizzie shuffling into the room, still in her bloody nightdress.

“Let me get you something fresh to put on love, before the doctor gets here,” she said, setting the tea on the table beside where Lizzie had slumped into a chair, shaking hands trying in vain to light a cigarette. She took the lighter from her and sparked it to life, helping her catch the flame, smoke spiralling around her bedraggled dark waves.

She got as far as the stairs when a loud banging sounded at the front door. She paused, uncertain about whether to answer, only to be confronted by Tommy’s angry voice bellowing through the wood. She pulled it open but blocked his path.

“She here? Get out of my way, Pol,” he seethed, trying to push past her but she held firm.

“Tom—”

“Get outta me fucking way NOW! I’ll fucking kill her,” he roared, blue eyes flashing like shards of ice.

“Yeah? Well you’ll have to get in the queue ‘cause some other fucker has already had a bloody good go at it!” she shot back.

He stopped trying to jostle his way past and stared at her in confusion. “What?”

She lowered her voice and let him into the small hallway. “She’s in a bad way, Tom. Someone’s done a number on her. And the boys outside.” He turned, looking back towards the black car stationed just down from the house. “Both in there with their throats cut,” she elaborated. “She won’t tell me who but I can guess.”

He moved to go further into the house and she put a hand on his arm.

“Be gentle, she’s had…a difficult time.”

He snorted, if she’d had a difficult time she had brought it on her own head. Shaking Polly off he stalked towards the kitchen, seeing Lizzie sitting with her back to him. Even from behind he could see the angry purple welts around her neck. Fury both for and towards her surged through him.

“Did Changretta do this?” he asked in a low voice but she didn’t reply. “Lizzie?”

Still she stayed silent as smoke twirled and circled above her head.

“Come for more information about us, did he?” he asked acidly.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” challenged Polly, shock evident in her tone.

“She betrayed us, Pol. Betrayed her. Didn’t you?” he said to the back of Lizzie’s silent, statuesque head. “DIDN’T YOU?!”

Both women jumped as his accusation roared through the room.

“Thomas, I don’t think—” argued Polly but he carried on, ignoring her.

“Do you even know what he did to Y/N, eh? You tried to give her back to him after he fucking raped her! Because what? Because you were fucking jealous, is that it?!”

“What do you mean?” said Polly, coming to stand between him and Lizzie.

“She called Luca Changretta a week ago and gave Y/N up. That’s how they knew where she was, that’s how they knew where to attack.”

Polly scoffed but she could tell by his face he believed it and a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “And how exactly do you know this?”

“The girl at the exchange fucking heard her do it.”

“The girl at the exchange? Oh yes because they are so—”

As she was speaking Lizzie finally turned to look at him, the mess of her face almost making him recoil.

“It’s true Pol,” she whispered. She looked at Tommy, “I didn’t know what he did to her. What he was capable of.” She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap and for the first time he saw the dark red stain spread across the pale cloth. For a shameful moment all he felt was relief before something more complicated took its place. “But now I do.”

He moved slowly, as though approaching a skittish horse, lowering himself to crouch before her, slipping his hand into hers. They were cold to the touch. Everything about her seemed frozen.

“Did he..?” She shook her head quickly and he felt himself exhale a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I’m sorry Tom, I really am. I thought…we…” she shook her head, tears beginning to fall once more. “He knows, he knows how to find her.”

Tommy’s heart stopped and he pulled away as though her touch burned him. “That’s impossible. You don’t know where she is. None of us knows where she is.”

“But Aberama does,” she whispered fearfully. “I tried not to tell him how to find him, please believe me, but he.. he made me,” she sobbed against her hands.

He glanced up in shock, seeing the blood drain from Polly’s face.

“Michael,” she whispered, numbness flooding her body, making it hard to form words.

He was on his feet in an instant. “Stay here, get her a doctor, I’ll take care of this. Nothing will happen to him, to either of them, I promise.”

As the front door banged closed behind him Polly leaned her palms flat on the table, looming over Lizzie.

“If anything happens to my son, it will be me, not Tommy, you have to answer to, do you understand me?” she hissed. “We don’t tolerate traitors in this family.”

*****

You were sitting on the hillside just behind the camp after many hours of helping Bonnie with the horses, earning your keep. Your arms and back ached in that pleasant way that only comes from hard work. Your childhood spent with Tommy in Charlie’s yard, helping Curly with the animals had come to stand you in good stead but your hands had grown soft over recent years and you could feel where the tools had rubbed you.

Breathing in the clean air you rolled your shoulders and let yourself relax as the clouds parted and a little shaft of the weak sinking sun warmed your face. This was a pretty spot they had chosen to camp, on a little plateau with a hill rolling down to a river in the valley below.

You were peaceful, enjoying the stillness, when a shadow fell across you.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Michael asked, looking awkward. It was the first time he had properly acknowledged your presence since you arrived.

“Not at all,” you nodded, unable to contain your tone of surprise as you waved your hand at the grass beside you. He lowered himself down gingerly, the wounds in his abdomen clearly still giving him some pain. But you were pleased to see him looking healthier than when you arrived with a better colour in his cheeks. And now more casually dressed he could almost, but not quite, pass for one of them.

“I wanted to apologise,” he began, his manners still stiff even if his collar was not, but you cut him off.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You were right, I came here with Luca and I knew what he was coming to do.” You sighed and plucked a smoke from your case, offering them to him. He took one, fumbling in his pocket to produce his lighter, lighting yours and then his own in a bright flare of flame.

“It wasn’t until John was killed that I woke up and realised that what we were doing was insane,” you continued, blowing a billow of grey smoke into the darkening afternoon. “We should never have come here.”

Silence fell between you and for a moment you tried to imagine how life might have been if this war had never begun. If it had just been you, Luca and Chiara, safe in your home in New York. Would he have been the loving man you married? A good husband and doting father? Or was he always destined to become the man who held you against a wall whilst he took what he considered to be his?

And if you hadn’t come here, you wouldn’t have seen Tommy again. A memory of him holding you so tightly, buried deep within you, those eyes of his so close to yours that they were like drowning in oceans, rose unbidden. Your heart squeezed in your chest and you had to shut your eyes to chase it away.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did about John,” he said quietly, breaking the stillness that had lapsed between you. “You knew him a lot longer than me.”

You smiled softly, flicking a look at him. “He was like my brother. My very annoying little brother,” you grinned as he caught your eye but the emotion of it came gurgling up in your throat and you had to bite your lip to contain it. Swallowing harshly, you continued, “He and Arthur used to chuck you out the window and kick you down Watery Lane in a shoebox, y’know?”

He laughed, the most genuine show of emotion you had seen since your arrival here, wincing slightly as it pulled on his injuries. “I always thought they were joking about that.”

You shook your head, laughing with him. “Oh no, it’s all true - I was there. Your mum went ballistic, chased Arthur down the street with a frying pan.”

He smiled and flicked the end of his smoke into the grass, pressing down on it with the toe of his boot. You could see it coming, the question he had really come here to ask.

“Why does he want to kill you so much?”

And there it was.

“I mean, you’re his wife, the mother of his child, why would he want you dead?”

You stared into the distance for a moment, fingers pulling at the grass beside you.

“Because he thinks I betrayed him,” you said simply, glancing to your right, catching him watching you.

“And did you?” he asked, holding your gaze. He saw the corners of your mouth twitch slightly as you brought the end of your cigarette to your lips for a final drag. For the first time, he could appreciate why Tommy was so hung up on you.

“Yes,” you said slowly as you blew the smoke away from you. “But not in the way that he thinks.”

“How—”

But his question was lost in the sudden sound of a commotion coming from the camp, shouting and then the unmistakable sharp crack of gunfire.

“Get down!” you hissed as you ducked to the ground, pulling his arm as you turned to look behind you, both lying on your stomachs. Surely this couldn’t be happening, no one knew where you were.

Michael saw the pure terror stretch across your face, your eyes wide, and felt his own heart racing. He remembered all too well his last encounter with Luca Changretta when he came to see him in his hospital room and pointed a gun at his head. The moment he was sure he would die, before the mafioso revealed he was simply toying with him for sport.

He had no intention of repeating that experience. And he doubted that next time the bullet chamber would be empty.

“Y/N,” he whispered urgently, tugging your sleeve. “C’mon, we have to get out of here.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” you whined under your breath, panic racing through your veins, rooting you to the spot. From your position, pressed to the cold grass you couldn’t see what was happening but you could hear the sound of voices raised and calling to each other in Italian.

“Y/N,” he said more forcefully and slowly your head turned, blinking as though only seeing him properly for the first time. The sounds of the gun fight intensified. They were getting closer.

Nodding, jerking your limbs back to life, you began to move down the hillside as quickly as you could without fully standing up. Darkness was beginning to fall, giving you some scant cover of twilight but you were horribly exposed on the windy grass bank, the trees by the river still too far away to make a run for.

A shout from behind you made you stumble and you fell, the momentum causing you to roll down and down, the uneven ground bumping painfully against you. You tried to grab anything to slow your pace, sharp thistles tearing the skin of your palms but eventually you managed to pull yourself to a stop. Your head was spinning and you felt sick from the motion, and then you heard Michael shout.

Desperately trying to refocus your dizzy eyes, you saw him being dragged away by two men in fedoras slightly up the hill from you.

“No! No! Leave him alone!” you screamed, staggering to your feet and trying to run, only to be sideswiped by another laughing Italian you hadn’t seen coming, sending you onto your hands and knees in the dirt.

He wrenched you to your feet, one hand in your hair and you screamed in pain but he didn’t alter his grip. You could hear Michael calling to you and struggling as your captor flicked open his lighter, holding the flame high so he could see your face. The grin that cut across his face was sickening.

“Boss!” he called out, voice carrying across the wide expanse of countryside. “We‘ve got her!”

You struggled hard against him as he half carried, half dragged you back to the circle of wagons that had been home for the last two days. One of the vardos was on fire, bodies sprawled on the ground like ragdolls. This might be their terrain, but no man is a match for being caught unawares by a machine gun.

You looked wildly around for Bonnie, praying you wouldn’t see his body amongst the dead. You could hear the horses calling in distress. But you didn’t have long to look as you were heaved towards a trio of black cars closer to the road.

You saw, with a startled wail, Aberama Gold on the ground by the vehicles, his face bloody. He wasn’t moving and you couldn’t tell whether he was alive or dead. Slightly ahead of you, Michael was being manhandled into one of the cars, a bag being roughly pulled over his head. Panic raced through you - you had to escape, had to protect Polly’s son - and your heart was beating so fast you thought you might pass out.

“Principessa.” The word oozed towards you from your left.

The very sound of his voice made your skin crawl.

Slowly Luca came into view, nodding at his man who gripped your arms tightly behind your back but you were too afraid now even to struggle. He stopped in front of you, running his long fingers down your cheek, pushing your hair back from your face and you tried not to flinch from his touch. What happened next would be crucial for your survival.

“I’ve missed you amore,” he grinned, exposing a row of white teeth, like a shark assessing its prey. “I think it’s time you came back home.”

PART 23

Sooo….. that happened 👀 Were you ready?!

I’m also very sorry for hurting Lizzie so much but I didn’t want to drag out the whole baby thing longer than necessary and as someone correctly guessed last week, I always thought the impact and stress of the attack from Luca would be enough to cause a miscarriage. Sorry Natasha, I love you on the show!

As ever, please do come and screech at me in all the usual ways! I’m dying to know what you think of this and what might happen next 😬

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @ladygreythethird (unable to tag) , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhore , @majesticcmey , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @itssamlavadaa, @quarterpastmidnight , @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 (unable to tag) , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel , @vivre-dans-la-nuit , @woofgocows , @esposadomd , @elenavampire21

#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

I am still absolutely loving this. Alfie and Chiara? OH MY OVARIES STOP THIS MADNESS UPON MY HORMONES!!! Because I bet she looks even teenier cuddled up to him. Again, the way you weaved canon with your plot was absolute perfection! I have one hour before bedtime. Imma see how much more I can read so excuse the brevity of my commentary, but I want to spend my time reading this utter masterpiece!!

Thank you for waiting an extra day (again!) for this week’s chapter whilst I’ve been away with work (again!). It’s given me a chance to spend a bit more time getting this right - or at least trying to! I hope you enjoy 🤍 Please do let me know your thoughts in all the usual ways, xx

Summary: Alfie and Luca meet to negotiate Chiara’s return to her father, Y/N tried to settle into life at the camp and Lizzie had a visitor.

Warnings: Violence - both threatened and an actual attack. References to sexual violence (consistent with previous chapters). Bad language and a number of racial slurs consistent with language used on the show.

Word count: 4850 PART 20 | SERIES

Part 21: Negotiation

If Alfie thought acquiring the toddler had been easy, the actual possession of said infant was anything but. Her nanny, frightened and protective of the little girl in her charge, would only eye him warily and mutter in Italian - both to herself and to the child who was apparently capable of bilingual babbling.

Fucking wops in his fucking bakery. It was enough to test even the most patient of men. And even he would admit that he, Alfie Solomons, was not the most patient of men.

Luckily Ollie, his faithful right hand man, had taken over much of the oversight of the pair, but the little madam still seemed to turn up all over the building in places she definitely should not be. The men were equal parts bamboozled and charmed by this tiny chattering princess with a head of shining dark curls and a stuffed cat toy tucked under her arm, which she seemed determined that everyone should meet and pet accordingly.

So eventually, for everyone’s safety, Alfie had no choice but to put her and the poe-faced woman in his office and lock the door. He’d be fucked if something happened to Changretta’s kid, and not just because he’d have no bargaining power with Luca. He was pretty sure that right this moment Tommy Shelby and the child’s formidable mother would be making plans to recover what they lost, and he’d promised no harm would come to her. For once, it was a promise he intended to keep.

On Saturday afternoon, he was working (he might have overstated the importance of the Sabbath to Changretta’s man) in the office normally used by the secretaries when Ollie knocked the door.

“The woman wants to see you.”

He frowned, eyeing the younger man over his half-moon spectacles. “Why?”

“She won’t say - she’ll only talk to you. The kid’s asleep at the moment.”

He let out a great huffing sigh and pushed himself to his feet, lumbering back towards his office, the heart of his kingdom.

He unlocked the door and as he opened it he saw the woman start slightly, sitting awkwardly in front of his desk - apparently even in his absence she hadn’t dared to sit in his chair. The little girl was asleep on the battered, old sofa that ran along the side wall, a blanket that he didn’t recognise tucked around her. She snuffled in her sleep as he came into the room and he froze in case he woke her. He was now well acquainted with what happened when she was woken before she was ready. It wasn’t pretty.

“Don’t worry, once she’s out she sleeps like the dead,” said the woman in a quiet, heavily accented voice. It was the first time he had heard her speak English since they left the hotel.

He grunted a reply, moving to claim his throne, steepling his fingers as he stared at her.

“So what is it you want then, hmm?” he asked gruffly.

“You intend to give her back to her father, don’t you?” she replied, meeting his piercing glare with a strength he hadn’t seen before.

“If he gives me what I want then an agreement invoking the girl can be arranged,” he confirmed.

“You shouldn’t make a deal with that man. He’s the devil,” she said with a sudden venom.

Alfie gave a loud bark of laughter and quickly silenced himself so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping child. “And what makes you so sure that I’m not a worse devil?”

She pursed her lips. “I’ve seen how you are with her,” she looked at Chiara, a soft expression on her face. “I believe you when you say you will not harm her.”

“Don’t hurt kids. Never have, never fucking will.”

“Then you should keep her here and return her where she belongs,” she said firmly.

“And where’s that then?”

“To her mother.” She looked at him with a cool directness. “You know where she is, don’t you? Is she safe?”

He rubbed a palm over his beard. “Yeah, she’s safe. If you can call being holed up with Tommy Shelby safe.”

“Mr Changretta sent men to take her back. Tell me they did not succeed,” she said earnestly. He nodded, trying to puzzle her out.

“And so why shouldn’t I give the kid back to her daddy? He seems very fucking concerned about getting her and her mummy back.”

“Because if you do, Y/N will never be able to get her back. He’ll have Chiara sent home, back to New York, and her chance will be gone.”

“Yeah, until he gets her back from Shelby and they’re just one big happy fucking family again..?”

The woman scoffed at his apparent naivety.

“She isn’t coming home, Mr Solomons. If Mr Changretta gets his hands on her, he’ll kill her. The only way she stays alive is if she can run or he is dead. And I know her, she won’t leave without her daughter.”

His expression darkened and he shifted uncomfortably, the knowledge of his deception not sitting quite so well with him now.

“And why would he kill his fucking wife? She’s the mother of his child.”

“Do you know what he did to her, Mr Solomons? To Y/N?” she continued quietly, seeing some of his inner feelings in the tightening of his jaw, eyes cast down at the table. “You know her, yes? From before?” He hummed a response but didn’t meet her eyes.

“He beat and raped her for trying to help end this war between his family and the Shelbys.”

His head snapped up, his blood running cold. “He fucking what?”

“He hurt her so badly she couldn’t leave her room for two days. Now tell me, do you not think a man who would do that would not also be capable of murdering her?”

“Why are you telling me this?” he said, suddenly angry. “You fucking work for him. How do I know you’re not just some disgruntled employee trying to fuck him over by feeding me shit?”

“Because I helped clean her wounds, because I listened to her cry and saw the bruises he left on her skin. And I have spent the last two months with this sweet child and much of it with her mother,” she said fervently, leaning towards him, her eyes pleading with him to believe her. “Y/N’s a good person and she loves her daughter, Mr Solomons. Chiara deserves to grow up with her, away from all this.” She waved her hands around her as she finished speaking.

He sat back in his seat, deep in thought. He could call Tommy, find out if what this woman was telling him was true, but he suspected the Birmingham man might not be desperate to talk to him at the moment. And either way, instinctively he knew what she was saying was genuine. She had no reason to lie, not if she wanted to live - to turn against her boss like this was a risky business.

“What’s in it for you?” he asked eventually.

“What do you mean?” she replied, frowning with confusion.

“You tell me that Luca Changretta is a fucking rapist monster and want me to keep his little girl away from him long enough for me to get her back to her mother, right? So what’s in it for you if I do that?”

“Nothing. I just want them to be safe, together,” she said softly, eyes bright with emotion. “This might be their only chance to escape him. I… I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.”

In the corner, the little girl began to wake. The woman was quickly out of her seat to tend to her, picking her up and cuddling her against her chest. The child’s bright dark eyes fixed on Alfie and she smiled.

“Aahfeee” she babbled, squirming to get down so she could toddle towards him. She reached his knee and stretched, demanding to be picked up.

He lifted her to his knee, scratching his beard as she settled against him, playing with her toy. He had some thinking to do.

*****

Luca climbed out of the car down by the Camden docks, nose wrinkling at the smell of hard liquor, mingling with the smog and general filth of London in the air. The large set of warehouses seemed to be almost hunkered down against the banks, like great beasts waiting to spring. Once again a sharp jolt ran through him at the thought of his daughter in such a place.

He didn’t bother to wait for an invitation, motioning with a flick of his wrist for his men to enter the building Sabini had told him Solomons kept his office.

It was dark and damp inside, the stench of raw alcohol even stronger than outside, though there was a sweetness with it. Rum. They strode through the building, finding Alfie waiting for them in front of a wall of barrels in what seemed to be a bottling area.

And for some bizarre reason, he had his eyes shut. Sabini had warned him about Solomons and his unorthodox and unpredictable ways. He exchanged a glance with Matteo, who tried to get Alfie’s attention.

“My little cousin was born blind,” he replied after a grunted acknowledgment, still with his eyes closed. “And as a result I now donate a considerable sum of money to a charity that gives dogs with eyes to blind Jews.”

Luca rolled his eyes and made a hand gesture at Matteo. This was too fucking eccentric, even after what he’d been warned to expect.

“The chairman of the board recommends that those of us who were blessed with the gift of sight, that we spend at least half an hour each day with our eyes closed, so that we may better understand the darkness. And that so we may increase our donations and that,” continued Alfie, unseeing but not oblivious to the exchanges between the other men.

“What time is it?”

“Twenty nine minutes past eight,” replied Matteo, checking his pocket watch.

“Right well then I’ve got another minute to go, but you can begin if you want.”

Luca moved menacingly towards the Camden man, stopping just in front of his face, toothpick playing between his teeth. He looked him up and down. His Chiara with this filthy, scruffy fucker? He fought to control his temper.

“I’m Luca Changretta,” he said icily, but Alfie didn’t even flicker a closed eyelid.

“Oh yeah, I know who you are, hmm,” he replied, nodding. “You’re a bit of a failure ain’tcha? You come all the way over here to this country in order to kill Tommy Shelby but,” he chucked, eyes still closed tight, “but he’s not dead, is he?”

“No,” growled Luca, “he ain’t.”

“And now he’s got your fucking missus an’ all, hasn’t he?”

Luca’s jaw clenched so tight he snapped the toothpick, the small sound echoing loudly in the close silence between the two men. He threw the end to the floor, spitting the piece in his mouth away.

Alfie snorted in reply. “Yeah, he has, hasn’t he. Here, how much time have I got left, mate?”

Matteo consulted his watch. “Ten seconds.” He began to count down. “Three, two, one.”

“Right, hello,” said Alfie, opening his eyes and blinking at the relative brightness, taking in the men before him. “How can I help you?”

Luca laughed mirthlessly. “How can you help me? Well you can start by giving me my fucking daughter back.”

Alfie laughed heartily in turn. “And why the fuck would I do that, hmm?”

Luca forced himself to smile, “Give me my daughter and I can help you, Mr Solomons.”

Alfie chuckled and shook his head. “Nah mate. Way I see it, you don’t have anything I want.” He sat back on a stool in front of the barrels, beringed hands crossed over his stomach. “So jog on,” he added, “down there is Bonny Street, see yourselves out.”

Luca looked around, sniffing. He crossed the room and plucked a brown bottle from a packing crate, unstoppering it to smell the contents.

“Wouldn’t you like to ship your rum to New York, Mr Solomons?”

Alfie’s face remained impassive.

“How many barrels a week, huh? You see, I represent some very serious people, who can offer you serious access.”

A heavy silence weighed in the air.

“Two hundred,” said Alfie, shortly.

“Two hundred what?”

“Two hundred barrels a week. Seems reasonable.”

Luca laughed, taking a brief sip from the bottle, the sweet, fiery liquid burning on his tongue.

“Two hundred barrels,” he chuckled, masking his irritation. He flicked a look at Matteo, shifting the bottle back and forth between his hands. “What d’ya think, huh?”

“And also I want some cash,” added Alfie, fishing in his pocket. “Have broken it down here for you, nice and simple.” He unfolded a piece of paper and placed his little glasses on his nose.

“So, first off, there’s the standard kidnap ransom, well that’s five hundred,” he looked up at Luca, gesturing like he should know the going rate for the abduction of a child. “But you’re going to have to add another hundred on account of her mother being, like me, connected to an oppressed people.”

He grinned, looking up at them over his half-moon spectacles before studying the piece of paper in his hand.

“Then you’re gonna have to put another tonne on top of that because Tommy Shelby ain’t gonna be best pleased about it and his fucking animal of a brother will come after me.” He looked at Luca meaningfully. “And then you will have to put another hundred on top of that because, well, you are a fucking wop, mate.” He enunciated the slur slowly and clearly, staring at Luca with disdain. Glancing across to Matteo he saw him slack jawed. “And you,” he nodded, “But I’ll let it go for the kid cos she’s only half a wop and her mother is a fine woman.”

Luca’s hands curled into tight fists at the mention of his wife and child, jaw jumping with silent rage.

“What d’you know about my fucking wife?” he ground out.

Alfie laughed, sitting back with a grin. “Oh me and the lovely Y/N Y/L/N, we go way back,” he drawled, enjoying the vein jumping in the Italian man’s temple, the insinuation hanging in the air.

“And then you’ll have to add another five hundred because if I give her kid back to you, there’s every chance that Arthur fucking Shelby will be the least of my worries because she will hunt me down and cut my fucking bollocks off with that little flick-knife of hers.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed; he had no idea what Alfie was talking about. Why did it seem that everyone here knew you as being as much of a gangster as he was? Gunning down his men, threatening gangland bosses with knives. Who the fuck were you?

Alfie folded and proffered the paper towards Matteo. “The total is down there in black and white.” The younger man reached to take it automatically, looking slightly stunned. “So crack on yeah?” smiled Alfie as Luca pushed both Matteo and the paper away.

“Mr Solomons, I’m gonna be very fucking clear with you,” he said angrily. “You are gonna give me my daughter back, or I am gonna burn everything you own to the fucking ground.”

“Two hundred barrels a week and the number on that page and we have an agreement, Mr Changretta,” countered Alfie, seemingly entirely unphased. “Oh but you’re going to have to add another tonne to your bill,” he paused, lips set in a tight line as his eyes danced dangerously, “for being a cunt, mate. Alright?”

Luca glared back, taking a step towards him.

“Luca! They say this is how he is,” argued Matteo in Italian, quickly intervening, a hand on Luca’s chest, making him look at him. “We need him. He has Chiara.”

Alfie grinned, spreading his hands wide, guessing at the shorter man’s meaning. Luca sucked in a long breath of resignation through his nose.

“You will give my daughter back to me?”

“I will.”

Luca nodded slowly. “Ok. Any other requests? Two hundred fucking barrels, we have a deal.”

Alfie made an uncertain noise, scrunching up his face as he rocked back on his seat.

“What? I said we have a deal?” repeated Luca, eying him with impatience.

“Ahh…. but you just made a deal without negotiation though, didn’tcha mate?” replied Alfie, scratching at his beard.

Luca shrugged, so fucking what, as soon as he got Chiara back and had his final win over the Shelbys, he would destroy this strange, smug man before him. The deal was irrelevant.

“Tommy Shelby was right about you,” mused Alfie. “You plan to kill us all,” he added quietly to himself in Yiddish.

Luca shrugged again. Soon they would all be dead and he would own this fucking town.

“Who gives a fuck what Tommy Shelby thinks,” he spat. “Now do we have a deal or not? And how about you fetch me my daughter, Mr Solomons.”

There was a pause as Alfie stared at him with an unreadable expression.

“Ahh….nah, I don’t think so,” said Alfie, speaking English once again, shaking his head. “The deal is that you get me by money and written agreement from your superiors about my rum distribution - ‘cause you do have superiors don’tcha? - and then we can talk about how you get your girl back.”

Luca burst forward and again Matteo dragged him back.

“You cazzo! You get me Chiara right this fucking minute!!” he screamed, finger pointing in Alfie’s face, his cool demeanour gone in a flash, flecks of spittle flying from his lips.

From the shadows, a number of men with white aprons loomed, armed with heavy metal implements. Amongst them was a young man who must have been at least seven feet tall. He grinned at them menacingly, testing the weight of the heavy iron bar in his hands.

“Luca, c’mon, we should go,” urged Matteo and for once, Luca allowed himself to be pulled away.

*****

You sat on the front steps of the vardo you’d been sleeping in, smoking a cigarette and having a brief rest from helping out around the camp. It was surprising how quickly some of it had come flooding back to you - muscle memory kicking in faster than your conscious self.

Michael, however, was sullenly sitting in one of the other wagons, ignoring everyone’s good natured attempts to include him.

His attitude, given his family connection to this way of life, irked you. His blatant lack of respect or gratitude to the people who were keeping him safe. But you couldn’t say anything to him, not when your family by marriage were the reason for his current predicament. In fact, you hadn’t spoken since his outburst on the way to the camp. Remembering his words, a prickle of guilt worked its way up your spine. You pulled harder on your smoke and tried to shake it off.

Bonnie spied you across the circle of wagons and you smiled as he caught your eye, coming to sit by you on the step.

“You alright? You look like you’re thinking melancholy thoughts,” he smiled, twirling a long piece of grass between his fingers.

You tried to return his smile but it was more of a grimace. “I was just thinking about what Michael said yesterday,” you admitted.

He scoffed with a shake of his head. “Don’t pay him any mind. Look how he’s behaving with everyone else - he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

In truth he had been shocked by Michael’s behaviour. He knew you were the wife of the mafia mobster who was at war with the Shelbys, but you didn’t appear to be someone who wanted any part in it. And you were only here because your husband wanted to hurt you just as much as the Shelbys. There was a sadness in you that you seemed to carry like a weight across your shoulders.

But you shook your head in reply. “No, he was right. I… I— when I was in New York, when I came here at first, I was part of the plot to hurt them, all of them.” Mortification burned across your cheeks and he watched as you crushed your cigarette end under your toe with more aggression than was necessarily warranted. “He has every right to be angry with me, with what I represent.”

A silence grew between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“What made you change your mind? You’re not on your husband’s side of this war anymore if he wants you dead. What changed?” he asked eventually and you looked up from contemplating your boots.

You opened your mouth to speak but a tide of emotion washed through you and for a moment you couldn’t form the words.

“John. When John died,” you choked out.

“I never knew him,” he replied, studying your profile as you stared into the middle distance.

“He laughed a lot,” you said softly, a tear escaping with your words. “Even after the war when it seemed like no one had anything left to laugh about, John was still John, always joking around. When we were kids he used to make me - all of us - laugh until our sides and faces ached.”

You stopped, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “He was a good man.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bonnie said quietly and you could only give a tight, wry smile.

“Yes it is. I could have done more. I could have warned them. I should have—”

You stopped, covering your face with your hands. Would you ever be able to live with the shame of the last few months? John’s death, abandoning your daughter, running away here. Even when your rational brain knew here was the smartest place to be, every moment away from Chiara felt like a betrayal.

And Tommy. Just when you thought you could let yourself love him again, it was ruined before it could even get started.

For a moment, you just couldn’t stop yourself from giving into the hopelessness of the situation.

Bonnie tentatively put an arm around your shoulder, patting your arm gently and you leaned into him as you cried for your lost brother. For everything you had lost.

*****

The journey back to the Midlands was a quiet one as Luca seethed silently to himself. To return without his daughter had not been part of the plan but Matteo was right. They were outnumbered, outflanked. Fucking Jews, thought, his lips curled in anger. He would make Solomons and his men suffer for their actions.

As they neared Stratford, he spoke, breaking the uneasy peace in the car.

“Don’t go back to the hotel, we’ve got another job to do today.”

Matteo looked warily at his boss, the barely contained rage in his eyes. Every day he seemed less and less in control. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was afraid of him.

“You got an address for the Shelby bitch who sold us down the river over Y/N?”

Matteo nodded. “She works for Tommy Shelby, in his office, practically a member of the fucking family,” he replied. “Rumour is that he is - or was, anyway - fucking her.”

Luca’s face creased into a cold, thin smile. “Let’s pay her a visit. See what else she knows.”

The sleek, silver car pulled up at Lizzie’s address, catching the Blinders who were positioned as her protection completely off-guard on this lazy Sunday afternoon. Before they could draw weapons, Luca’s men had quietly dispatched them, not even disturbing the quiet of the street.

Climbing out of the car once it was done, Luca knocked on the door of the house they had been given. After a moment it opened, just a small amount, and a tall, dark haired woman peered out around it.

Recognising Luca Changretta with a start, Lizzie tried immediately to shut the door in his face, but he was too quick, throwing his shoulder against the wood, forcing his way into the house. She tried to run but again. He was faster than her, shoving her against the wall with a gloved hand over her mouth. The other men followed him in and took up stations at either entrance, ready for any Shelby retaliation.

“You must be Signorina Stark,” he grinned cruelly as she struggled against his grip, her eyes wide with fear above his fingers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You and me, we got some things we need to discuss.”

She struggled and he slammed her back against the wall, a sickened crack echoed as her head connected with it and she whimpered in pain.

“This will go a lot better for you if you quit trying to fight me and tell me what I want to know.” Tears blurred in her waterline. “Now, if I take my hand away are you gonna behave? Because if you can’t be quiet, I can make you be quiet. Or we can go on a little trip to somewhere where it don’t matter how much noise you make. It’s up to you.”

She nodded against his palm and he slowly pulled it away. She sucked in shaky breaths, still pinned against the wall by his other hand resting on her neck and his body pressed against hers.

“Why are you here?” she whispered fearfully.

He grinned, a sickening curve of his lips, coldness in his eyes. “I think it’s time we had a little conversation about my wife.” He pulled her by the arm towards the back of the house, dropping her in a chair by her kitchen table. She was flanked by Matteo and another of his men, a silent warning not to try anything.

“I don’t know anything about your wife,” she stuttered, long elegant fingers fidgeting with her skirt.

Luca pulled up a chair, sitting so close his knees bracketed hers.

“I don’t think that’s the truth though, is it, Lizzie? Can I call you Lizzie?” She shuddered, looking away and he chuckled, extracting a toothpick from his pocket, slipping it between his teeth.

“From what I hear, there’s nothing goes on in the Shelby family that you don’t know.” He leaned forward, tilting her chin up with two fingers, smirking as she recoiled. “So how about you start telling me what you know and where the fuck she is ‘cause my spies know she’s not in the house anymore.”

“I don’t—”

The smack was so hard she would have fallen off the seat if Matteo hadn’t grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Please! Please, don’t, I don’t—”

Again he hit her square across the face, his heavy signet ring catching and splitting her lip.

“Please, I’m pregnant!” she begged, cowering from him, arms wrapped protectively around her middle.

He sat back, studying her with a stony expression. “Is it Shelby’s?”

She hesitated a moment too long. Trying to decide which response would be better for her.

He leaned in, gripping her cheeks, her tears and blood trickling onto his hand. “If you think I give a fuck about Tommy Shelby’s bastard in your belly, you are very much mistaken.”

She choked a sob, eyes slipping closed. Y/N’s face in the Garrison flashed into her mind, the shadows of bruises under her make-up. She had assumed they’d come from her abduction, no matter what Tommy said. But now she knew the truth - this man was a monster. Shame clawed at her, her betrayal to try and get Y/N out of the way, back where she belonged.

Luca’s fingers pinching her face pulled her back to the present. “Now, and I’m only going to ask this once more before things get much worse for you. WHERE. IS. MY. WIFE?!” he yelled in her face.

“I don’t know. I swear,” she wailed.

He swore in a grunt and prepared to strike again, but she held up her hands in panic. She might have to live with the shame but her unborn child was her primary concern.

“But I know how you can find her. Aberama Gold. He knows. She’s with the gypsies. Follow Aberama and he’ll take you straight to her,” she said in a rush, stumbling over her words.

He released her face roughly and sat back as she hugged herself, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“See now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he mocked. “And how do I find this Aberama Gold?”

She shook her head, pressing her lips together. Tommy would never forgive her.

Luca stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he came to loom above her. “You should keep talking, signorina.” He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back, pulling at the roots. “Because I’m not leaving here without the information I need. And you are going to give me it, willing or,” he twisted his fingers causing her to cry out in pain, “unwillingly.”

PART 22

Eek - I know a lot of you have been waiting for Lizzie to get her comeuppance but did you see this coming? 😬 What’s going to happen next?? You’ll just have to come back next week to find out 😉

Also, if you like Alfie and Chiara, I’m working on a fluffier one shot of how having a toddler in a working distillery isn’t the greatest idea of all time 😂 I’ll link it on next week’s chapter but keep your eyes peeled for it coming out, xx

Masterlists: TOMMY | ALFIE | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @ladygreythethird (unable to tag) , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhore , @majesticcmey , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @itssamlavadaa, @quarterpastmidnight , @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 (unable to tag) , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel , @vivre-dans-la-nuit , @woofgocows , @esposadomd , @elenavampire21

#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Okay so even though I am so lost in this plot and thriving on every chapter, I have to tell you how flawless your characterisation of everybody is. Truly, you've nailed each character. I mean, you summed up the EXACT man Michael is in like, two sentences. I love you for that. Really hoping I can finish this tonight or it'll keep me awake, wondering what happens!!

Yay, I’m back on track with updates! Happy Betrayal Wednesday darlings! 🤍 There’s a lot going on in this one so I hope it all hangs together ok. As ever, feedback is so appreciated, please do come scream your feelings in the asks, comments and reblogs! 🤍

Summary: Luca ponders his next steps against both Solomons and the Shelbys, whilst in Small Heath, Y/N is still determined to leave to rescue her daughter. Polly takes Michael to the Boswell camp and Lizzie finally gets Tommy alone for an important conversation.

Warnings: Passing references to: smut, gang violence, injury, death and sexual assault. Bad language throughout. One (1) racial slur consistent with language used in the show.

Word count: 4580 PART 19 | SERIES

Part 20: Vardo

Luca watched the grey morning dawn from the chair in his office, chewing a toothpick as his mind ticked over, miles away from this place. Papers and furniture were strewn haphazardly around him; the fallout of his earlier burst of physical rage. He hadn’t slept, a tumbler of whiskey cradled in his hands as he brooded on the events of the previous day.

Matteo had called late in the evening with the worst possible news - Frederico and Antonio’s bodies had been dumped just outside Shelby territory. There was already credible gossip coming directly out of Watery Lane that the girl Tommy Shelby had stashed in his house had killed them herself. People had heard gunshots before Arthur Shelby even made it into the house.

He could never have believed Y/N capable of cold blooded murder, even in self defence. She had stood up to him on the odd occasion, sure, but he had always been able to keep her in her place. Never for a moment had he expected her to mount a credible retaliation against the attack to bring her back to him. In his eyes she had always been soft and delicate. Weak and pliable.

He shook his head as he stared unseeing at the grey clouds over the town. He should have known better. All her years in that dirty town, practically living with those scumbags. You could take the girl out of Small Heath but, apparently, you couldn’t take the razor gang out of the girl.

He would not make the same mistake twice.

The problem now was that he needed to find another way to get to her, bring her in, make her pay for her insolence. But how, when she was so protected by those fucking Shelbys?

He sat for a long time, letting the morning come to, the sounds of the hotel coming to life, voices in the street below, before he made the call.

“Small Heath 552.”

“Mrs Gray,” he growled down the line.

“Mr Changretta,” she replied after a beat, in clipped tones.

“You betrayed me, Mrs Gray. And I explained to you what would happen to you and all your worthless gypsy family if you broke your end of our deal,” he continued, transferring the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Was I in some way unclear about the consequences?”

She laughed, a bitter cackle that made his hand curl into a fist. Who did this bitch think she was?!

“You have nothing against us, Mr Changretta. Your numbers are dwindling by the day and yet you have barely injured us. You don’t frighten me.”

He thumped his fist against the tabletop so loudly she heard it down the line.

“You listen to me, you filthy puttana. You tell Tommy Shelby I will kill every last one of you miserable fucks, I will take everything from you!” he yelled. “And you tell my wife that if I ever get my hands on her—”

“What? You’ll rape her again? Is that your plan?” spat Polly, the anger coursing through her crackling down the phone line.

“She’s a dead woman. You all are.”

He dropped the heavy receiver back into its cradle with a ringing thud, breathing heavily. Flexing his fingers he imagined closing them around his wife’s elegant throat.

Regaining control, he passed a palm down his face, pulling himself wearily from the chair. He needed to get to London, talk to Sabini, strategise about how to deal with Solomons.

Because first things first; he needed to focus on getting Chiara back.

Dealing with Y/N would have to wait.

*****

“You can’t go to fucking Camden, Y/N!” Tommy shouted, chasing until he overtook you, blocking your way with outstretched hands.

“Fucking watch me,” you snapped, trying to push past him and he grabbed you by the shoulders. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

He dropped them but didn’t get out of your way, covering every move you made to pass.

“Have you forgotten what brought you here, Y/N, eh?” he said in a low voice, causing you to stop in your tracks, a caustic laugh bubbling through you until it hit him in the face.

“If you mean, have I forgotten how I was lifted off the street, separated from my child against my will and held here, also against my will, then no. I have not forgotten, Thomas.”

He had the good grace to look uncomfortable and you carried on.

“But if you are trying to suggest that I stay here because I am your fucking hostage…?” You scoffed derisively. “I think we both know that ceased to be true quite some time ago now.”

“Y/N..” he pleaded, reaching for your arms but you batted him away, instead pushing him hard against the chest.

“Get out of my way! I’m leaving!”

“What the bloody hell is going on out here?!” shouted Polly, marching out of the Shelby house, looking thunderous. “You’re disturbing half the street!”

For a moment, you and Tommy exchanged a glance and you knew he was feeling exactly the same as you; nine years old again when you had that blazing row about who was going to keep the stray dog you’d found at Charlie’s yard.

(As it happened, neither of you had been allowed to keep it and Polly had boxed both your ears for making such a carry on about it.)

“Are you going to tell her or should I?” you said, breaking the silence. He shifted awkwardly and you knew for sure Polly didn’t know about this other plan of his. Of course she didn’t, she would never have agreed to let him do something so unutterably stupid.

“One of you better tell me before I start boxing ears,” she said in a dangerously low voice.

“I’ve had a bit of a problem with Alfie Solomons—” he began, stopping only because you were scoffing so loudly.

“A bit of a problem?! That’s one way of putting it!” You turned to Polly. Behind her you could see Ada hovering in the doorway in a beautiful silk dressing gown. “He’s lost my daughter, Pol. He’s given her to Alfie fucking Solomons and he expects me to just sit here and—”

Your voice began to crack, a fresh wave of terror and the desperate need to get to Chiara overtaking you again.

“I didn’t give her to Alfie—”

“You sent him straight to her!”

“Yes, so he could bring her here, to be with you!”

You were both yelling again, glaring at each other - you with fury, him with embarrassed exasperation.

“Oh so that makes it—”

“Be QUIET and get inside the pair of you!” shouted Polly over the top of you, bringing you to a sudden, stuttering silence.

“I’m not going inside, I’m going to London,” you said, chin raised defiantly, hands curled into fists by your sides. There were others watching on now too, including Arthur who had come running out of number 57 at the noise and was now hastily reholstering his gun.

“If you leave our protection, you’ll be killed Y/N,” countered Polly gently, walking towards you. Tommy opened his mouth to speak and she glanced sharply at him. “Not one word from you, seems to me like you’ve done enough damage for one day.” He shut it again and looked at his shoes, fumbling in his pocket for a smoke.

“I have to go Polly,” you said more quietly, the tightness in your throat threatening to overwhelm you. “I have to get to her, she needs me, she—” You cracked, tears slipping down your cheeks and she wrapped you in a hug.

“I know, my girl, I know. But if you try, you won’t get as far as Coventry without Luca knowing where you are and he will kill you after what you did yesterday.”

“She’s just a baby, she’s not even two yet,” you wept into her shoulder. “I’m her mother, it’s my job…”

She pulled back, bringing her hands up to your damp cheeks, forcing you to meet her eyes.

“Your job is to stay alive long enough to keep being her mother. If you leave here now, like this, you will die and then it won’t matter that you tried, because she’ll never have a mother again.” You covered your mouth as a sob choked in your throat and she gently smoothed away your tears with her thumbs.

“You will get her back, we will fix this, but right now you have to stay where we can keep you safe.”

Reluctantly you nodded and suddenly Ada was by your side, weaving her fingers through yours, squeezing tight.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some tea,” she whispered, slipping her arm around your still shaking shoulders and leading you towards the house.

“Pol,” Tommy tried as you disappeared inside but his Aunt whipped around to glare at him.

“What in the devil’s name were you playing at sending Solomons to do something like that!?” she hissed. “Get in the house, we’re not finished discussing this. I’ve just had Changretta on the phone.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it was as if he had never gone to war, helped to kill hundreds of men, come back and expanded their business, securing their first ever legal betting licence. No, sometimes he was ten years old and was once again in deep shit with his fiery tempered aunt.

But unlike when he was ten, he knew now to pick his battles and he followed her silently into the house.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, your hands wrapped around a cup of tea, when he entered. You flicked a glance at him and went back to staring into the amber liquid. Without speaking he sparked a fresh cigarette and passed it to you, not missing how you flinched as his fingers accidentally brushed against yours.

Jesus Christ, how had he managed to fuck things up so badly, so quickly, he thought tiredly to himself, lighting another and sucking a long drag into his lungs. It had barely been an hour since he’d been buried inside you, feeling you unravel around his cock, fighting the urge to tell you he loved you. And now you wouldn’t even look at him, flinching away at his touch.

Arthur walked in behind him and slapped him on the back. “Morning’ brother,” he said more heartily than the mood in the room called for, but then Arthur never had been one for moderating his tone. He helped himself to a cup of tea, sliding into a chair next to you.

“So, you lost a fucking kid then, did’ya?” he said, with a slight chuckle. As if Tommy had simply misplaced his keys after too much to drink.

Your head snapped up, glaring at him murderously. “That’s my fucking kid you’re talking about so you’ll watch your fucking tone,” you hissed.

He looked slightly taken aback, sitting up straight. “Sorry Y/N, didn’t mean no disrespect.”

“We’ll get her back,” said Tommy, quietly. “We have men we can send, we’ll—”

“No,” you said slowly. Now the initial shock was wearing off, your rational brain was kicking in again. “You said Solomons would use her for leverage? Well then he’s already got Luca coming because no matter how much of a world class cunt he is, he loves Chiara more than anything in the world. If you pile in, you’ll cause a scene and she might get hurt.”

Tommy and Polly shared a glance, knowing you were right. You always had been just as smart as them but he wished you were wrong about this.

“You said he’ll use her as leverage,” you continued, thinking out loud, “so if Luca agrees, he’ll give her back to him. And if he doesn’t…well Luca will just try and take her anyway.” You pulled fretfully on your cigarette, swiping an escaping tear from your cheek and shook your head. “We have to stay out of it until we know if Luca has failed.”

“I’ll have men stationed to let us know what’s happening,” said Tommy and you looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, nodding, your mouth set in a hard line.

“Which leads us to our next problem,” said Polly. “I had a call from Changretta this morning.” Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “He wasn’t best pleased at being betrayed and he’s threatened to kill us all, including - especially - you, Y/N.”

You expected as much, nodding for her to continue.

“Michael is now well enough, just about, to be moved from hospital, and I have been making plans with Aberama Gold to take him to the Boswell camp today.”

“No,” said Tommy quickly, realising where this was heading.

“You know it makes sense,” she challenged back.

You had a horrible feeling they weren’t talking about Michael anymore.

“She stays here,” he said sternly.

“She’ll be safer there and you know it, Thomas!”

“Will one of you explain what the fuck you’re going on about?” grunted Arthur in irritation.

Polly looked at you. “Right now your husband knows exactly where you are. There’s nothing to stop him getting more men from Sabini and having another go.”

“And he’d be a fool if he thinks we’d leave you so unprotected that he could try that and succeed!” argued Tommy. “You’re safe in the house, I will keep you safe,” he added, leaning with his palms on the table, staring at you with desperate, pleading eyes.

You let out a bark of bitter laughter. “Not likely. I’m not staying with you, not after what you’ve done,” you snarled. He dropped his head, a sigh of frustration escaping him.

“But I’m not sleeping in a fucking vardo, either,” you said to Polly. “I’m not one of you lot.”

Which wasn’t strictly true. Yes you weren’t blood but you’d spent plenty of time in your childhood summers out on the road, playing in fields and sleeping in vardos. And when you were older, when Tommy used to take you away in the wagon. When you’d go all day without seeing another soul and make love under the stars…

You shook yourself, chasing the unwelcome memories away, making yourself focus on what Polly was saying.

“You once said that your husband would tear this city apart to find you and I didn’t believe you. I do now,” she replied quietly, regarding you with dark, serious eyes. “If you want to live long enough to see your daughter again, you’ll go with Michael and stay hidden.”

You so badly wanted to disagree. Out in the middle of nowhere you were even further away from getting to Chiara and all you wanted to do was rip Alfie Solomons limb from limb. But deep down you knew she was right.

“Fine. But this all has to end soon,” you said, with a deep sigh of resignation. “Next time you get the chance you’d better fucking kill him,” you added, pointing accusingly at Tommy as you got to your feet.

“Where are you going?” he asked quietly.

“To get my fucking shit together. Unlike some, I doubt the Boswell’s will buy me a new wardrobe if I turn up with only the dress on my back.”

Ada tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a giggle as you caught her eye, heading for the door. As is banged closed behind you, she caught Tommy glaring at her.

“What? She’s not wrong.”

He left without speaking, stalking up the lane behind you, relieved to see you actually going back to the house and not making a break for it.

You stopped him at the front door, keeping him on the other side of the threshold.

“Haven’t you got somewhere else you need to be by now?” you said snidely.

“Can we please just talk about this, eh? I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You held up a hand, silencing him.

“I wanted to believe you’d changed, Tom, I really did. And you very nearly had me fooled. But you’re just the same.” You felt sadness cracking in your chest, the old wound tender to the touch. “Thank you for reminding me that there was a reason I left last time.”

You shut the door in his face.

*****

The journey out to the Boswell camp took longer than you expected. Though maybe that was because you spent half of it uncomfortably crouched on the floor next to Michael’s feet, with a scarf over your head to keep you hidden from prying eyes until you were safely out of the city.

You hadn’t spent much time with Michael Gray before you left - you remembered him as a little boy before he was taken away and he had only just come back, settling into the company and the family as you left. He had been a sweet child but there was something about the man he had grown into you found difficult to warm to. He had a way of looking at the world like it was beneath him.

Eventually the car stopped and Aberama opened the door, helping first Polly, then you, down onto the grassy verge where a small group of men and a wagon were waiting. The air was sweet and clean and you sucked in great lungfuls of it, revelling in the freshness after so much time in the dirt of Small Heath. There was a hint of woodsmoke on the breeze and the warm scent of horses. It was exactly how you remembered.

“No, no fucking way,” said Michael climbing down awkwardly, leaning on his cane.

“You ever eaten hedgehog, Michael?” laughed Aberama and you couldn’t help but grin. You remembered your first time at a Romani camp and being slightly horrified by what was being cooked for supper.

“I’m getting back in this car,” he said tersely, fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Come on, Michael, it’ll be fine once you get into the swing of it,” you said encouragingly, seeing a young man who could only be Aberama’s son, giving you an appreciative smile.

“I am not getting into the fucking swing of it,” he said sharply, earning himself a warning look from his mother.

“Michael, you’re number three on Luca Changretta’s hit list after Tommy and Y/N, here.

“Yeah and I’ll stay in a hotel,” he said stubbornly.

You rolled your eyes at his stupidity. Clearly this kid had never seen any real action as part of the Blinders. Polly sighed deeply, possibly having a similar thought.

“If you stay in a hotel, I’ll know where you are, so will the people who take you there and so will the people who work in the hotel. And hotels don’t move around.” She turned, gesturing towards Aberama and the others who had come to take you the rest of the way to the camp. “They don’t even know where they’ll be tomorrow.”

“And if anyone should come for your Michael,” added Aberama, “and you, madam,” he added with a tip of his hat like it hadn’t been his own men who had abducted you. “Well, the Palmers and the Boswells will put up a fair fight.”

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“Take your medicine,” instructed Polly briskly, handing it to Aberama’s son who was waiting to be useful.

“They have healers up there,” said Aberama as Polly passed yet more drugs to his son. “Heal you much quicker.”

“Fucking witches, the lot of them,” grumbled Michael and you’d had just about enough.

“Show some fucking respect,” you snapped, his cool eyes sliding across to you, his face showing no reaction.

“They’ve agreed to welcome you on account of your blood, Mr Gray,” added the young man. He motioned to you to follow him over to the waiting wagon. As he helped you up you heard Polly issuing final instructions to her son.

“You’re Aberama’s son?” you asked as you settled in the back, waiting for Michael to join you.

“Yes, Bonnie Gold, madam,” he smiled, offering his hand.

You laughed at the formality, taking his hand in yours. He reminded you so much of Tommy at that age - wild and free, laughter in his eyes and the smell of horses around him.

“Y/N, please,” you smiled back.

Michael climbed in beside you, muttering to himself.

“It’ll be better than you think,” you said quietly, trying to build bridges after shouting at him. You had to live with him for the next while after all.

He looked at you, blatantly unconvinced.

“We used to come out and spend our summers like this when I was a child - me, Ada, Tommy, Arthur and..” You paused, swallowing, “..and John.”

The wagon began to move, jolting you all on the uneven ground. Bonnie rolled with the movement, accustomed to the bounce but Michael fell forward. Catching yourself, you quickly pulled him back upright, a wince on his face as he held a hand to his abdomen.

“You’ll get used to that too. Some of my happiest memories are—”

“Your husband’s men shot me. Gunned John down right in front of me, in front of his wife. You might have everyone else falling at your feet because they used to know you, but not me, do you hear me? You came here with him to kill us all and you very nearly killed me. So how about you keep your fucking childhood stories to your fucking self?” he said harshly, pulling away from your hands, leaving you slightly stunned.

You sat back, hands shaking at the intensity of his anger. Looking up you found Bonnie staring at you with wide brown eyes.

*****

Tommy retreated to his office at Shelby Company Limited, burying himself in paperwork and drowning his shame in whiskey. As the day dwindled into evening outside the windows he knew you would be at the Boswell camp by now. Not even he knew where that was, or how to find you. Only Aberama would know how once they moved on, or unless one of you made contact.

He dropped his head into his hands, cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

He’d fucking lost you again.

A knocking at his door caused him to lift his head wearily.

“Come,” he called, downing the remains of the whiskey in the glass beside him and clearing his throat, as Lizzie let herself into the office.

“What’re you still doing here, eh Lizzie?” he asked. It was getting late now, he assumed he was alone. He climbed to his feet, making his way to the drinks tray by the window.

“I need to talk to you about something, Tommy,” she said, hesitantly.

“Yeah? What is it?” he asked dismissively. He really wasn’t in the mood to chat. Whiskey?” he added, pouring himself a large one.

She bit her lip, pressing her back against the solid wooden doors.

“I don’t drink whiskey or gin anymore, Tom.”

He sparked a fresh cigarette and sank half his glass, topping it back up. “And why’s that?”

“Because they say it harms the baby,” she said quietly and he froze praying he might have misheard her.

He turned slowly, seeing her staring at him with wide eyes, almost unable to breathe.

“Yes, it can only be yours,” she said, seeing the look on his face. “That day by the canal when you were fucking somebody else in your head,” she added bitterly, knowing fine well who he’d been thinking of. “Except it wasn’t her that got pregnant.”

Oh holy fucking shit, this could not be happening again?!

He stared at her, unable to move, mind spinning. He couldn’t do this. Not again. It wasn’t that Lizzie wasn’t special to him - she’d been there through some of the worst moments of his life - but now you were back, he was determined to make things right. Show you how sorry he was, how much he loved you. Do everything he could to convince you to give him another chance. Give you the life you always should have had, with him.

“Have a seat Lizzie,” he said eventually and she slid into a chair, staring up at him uncertainly.

“Alright,” he sighed, running a hand down his face, “I know a woman, Lizzie—”

“You know lots of women, Tommy,” she said, interrupting him. “But if you don’t know this already, you don’t know me. I’m keeping it.”

He fought not to lose his temper.

“You can’t,” he said flatly, smoke fluttering from between his lips.

“I fucking can, and I will,” she snapped back. “You can’t make me go and see some woman about it.”

“Lizzie, please,” he said more gently, dropping into the seat opposite her. “I can’t have a baby with you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she asked, a rough edge to her voice that threatened tears.

“I can’t give you what you want from me,” he said, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She reached for his free hand, closing hers around it.

“Just think Tom, a little you and me,” she said softly, leaning towards him. “Some life after all this death.”

She shuffled further forward, resting her forehead against his, running her fingers lightly over the velvety shaved side of his hair. “It’s alright. It’ll be alright, Tom,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his.

He pulled back abruptly, ripping his hand from hers and sinking his whiskey. “No Lizzie. It won’t.” She sat back, looking like he had slapped her.

He stood, grabbing his jacket from the rack, shrugging it on. “You keep it if you want. You’ll get an allowance every week from the Company, a house. But that’s all I can give you.”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” she asked bitterly. “After all these years you still won’t let her go?”

He stood by the door, face unreadable.

“She doesn’t want you, Tom. Why can’t you see that? She doesn’t love you.”

He shook his head slowly, fumbling for a fresh smoke.

“C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

She stood, shaking with anger. “You’re a fool Thomas Shelby. I’m having your baby and you’re chasing a fantasy.” She pushed past him and he didn’t try and stop her, the heavy door banging as she stalked from the room.

*****

“Boss?” came Matteo’s voice from the door, glancing uneasily between Luca and Sabini. They’d been locked in Sabini’s study for hours talking about how to approach Solomons, making plans to get Chiara back.

Luca waved him in and Sabini took the opportunity to excuse himself. The Changretta man always put him on edge, and today he looked even more wild than usual. The loss of his daughter evidently weighing heavily on his mind.

“What is it? I’m busy here,” said Luca, sitting back in his chair, toying with a toothpick.

“We’ve had a reliable tip about the woman who gave us that intelligence on Y/N’s whereabouts,” Matteo said quickly, seeing Luca’s eyes gleam.

“Yeah?”

“She works for Tommy Shelby, right in the heart of the business.”

“So she set us up?”

“Maybe? Maybe not. The information from our spies is sketchy but it doesn’t sound like they were expecting us to attack the house - Y/N just got lucky.”

Luca chewed the toothpick thoughtfully, a dark smile spreading across his face.

“Find out whatever you can about this woman. I think we oughta pay her a visit when we’re done here. Find out what else she knows.”

PART 21

Ok so I know lots of you were excited for an Alfie x Y/N showdown but look, realistically I felt she would never have got anywhere near London without Luca catching up with her. I hope you can forgive me! As I said at the top, come at me with your thoughts, comments and screaming, in all the usual ways 🤍

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @ladygreythethird (unable to tag) , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhore , @majesticcmey , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @itssamlavadaa, @quarterpastmidnight , @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 (unable to tag) , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel , @vivre-dans-la-nuit , @woofgocows , @esposadomd , @elenavampire21

#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends

[darklydeliciousdesires]

At this point, I hope they ALL end up dead and she just sails off into the sunset with Chiara, a big wedge of cash and no menfolk to mess her life up any further. Because male fuckery is an energy here and honestly? I wouldn't blame her if she burned them all.

GO FULL SCORCHED EARTH GIRL HERE I GOT MATCHES LET'S GO. I dunno maybe let me have a lil' ride on your husband first and then we'll kill him because honestly, he might be a shit but he's pretty. A woman has her needs.

And onto the next chapter I go. With vodka. I sense I will need it!

Thank you for waiting an extra day for this one whilst I’ve been having a lovely chilled time away for a few days. And thank you for all the kind messages for my 6 month writing anniversary 🤍 I’m having a bit of a party for it so if you want to get involved, you can here.

Summary: We catch up with what happened to Luca after the police turned up and in Small Heath, Y/N confronts her feelings and Tommy owns up.

Warnings: 🔞 Smut. Bad language. Racial slurs (both Jewish and Romani) consistent with language used on the show. Mentions of violence.

Word count: 3996 PART 18 | SERIES

Part 19: Revelations

Running around the corner, away from the shouts and stomps of the police Luca and Matteo almost collided with the remnants of their group coming the other way.

“Luca! We need to get out of here!” called Fabio and he fought the urge to put a bullet in his head for stating the fucking obvious. But there was no way they could get back to the van they had arrived in; there were police all over that area.

Trying not to panic he ran with the others towards the street, where, mercifully, their back up getaway car was waiting. There was an undignified moment as they all tried to pile in at once and he had to snarl at them to get out of the way. Once they were all in, the tyres squealed as the driver gunned the engine to get them the fuck out of there fast.

As the dirty grey of Birmingham gave way to the soft greenery of the countryside he felt himself begin to breathe again. But as he calmed in one sense, the rage that had taken a back seat to his primal need to escape, began to take hold once more.

He had failed to kill Tommy Shelby and he had lost four good men in the process. Men whose families he would have to tell. Break their loss to them like he had received the news of his father and brother. Yet more men dead at the hands of those Shelby fucks.

As fields slipped by and the outskirts of Stratford came into view, he hoped to fuck Frederico hadn’t screwed up getting Y/N back. They might have been betrayed on the attack on Tommy, but he was sure the Blinders wouldn’t have seen them coming in for her. He smirked grimly to himself; at least he would have something to take his rage out on.

Instead of returning directly to the hotel, the expensive pale grey car turned into the drive of a remote old farmhouse. Peering out the window, Luca frowned, unable to see Frederico’s black one. They should have been here by now. In and out had been the instruction. Get the girl, alive, and get out. Kill whoever tries to get in your way.

Climbing out, grateful for the fresh clean air of the country rather than the dirty, gritty smog of Small Heath, he looked around. All was quiet. Too quiet.

He motioned with a flick of his head, for Matteo to go inside, and then turned to survey the surrounding landscape. The late afternoon twilight was beginning to gather, the fields quiet, desolate even, with crops not yet growing in the February chill. Their arrival startled a flock of birds, taking off en masse with a chorus of noisy calls and beating of wings.

Matteo reappeared a moment later, shaking his head. “No sign of anyone, boss.”

Fuck… where were they?

*****

As soon as they got back to the hotel, it was clear something was wrong. Everything was eerily quiet there too. Pushing open the door to his daughter’s room, who should have been there with Barbara at this hour, he found it in disarray. Belongings flung around, drawers turned out in a hasty search for something. No, wait, not looking for something, he realised as he looked more closely, noticing his daughter’s favourite stuffed cat, that his mother had given her when she was born, was missing. Things had been taken.

A shout went up from another room.

Fear gripped him as realisation set in. His child had been taken.

This day was just going from bad to worse.

At that moment, Matteo rushed into the room, stopping in his tracks as he took in the mess. “Luca, you need to come,” he said, seeing fire burning in his boss’s dark hazel eyes.

Following the shorter man through to the study, he saw Marco, the man he had left to protect his daughter, being untied from a chair, a rag that had been used as a gag still hanging around his neck. He had a nasty gash on his forehead and a black eye blooming beneath it.

“Luca… I’m sorry, they came out of nowhere,” he began fearfully.

“What the fuck happened here?!” shouted Luca. “I leave you for four hours with one simple fucking job - keep my daughter safe - and what? It was too fucking complicated for you, huh?!” His tone was biting, hovering menacingly above the injured man.

“They were in the room when we got back from the park, it was over before there was anything I could do, boss. One of them was a fucking giant!” he pleaded.

“Who were they? Where have they taken her? And where’s the fucking nanny?!” He felt certain if there had been a betrayal it was her - he saw the way she looked at him after the incident with Y/N. Judgemental bitch.

“They took her too. Made her pack a bag for her and the kid.” He stopped, swallowing hard under Luca’s glare. “I mean, your daughter, boss.”

“But who?” Luca’s limited patience was wearing extremely thin.

“Alfie Solomons, he said his name was.”

Luca stepped back in shock. He’d heard of Solomons from Sabini - the Mad Baker of Camden Town, a fucking kike, Sabini had said. Made and ran rum out of warehouses down on the London docks.

His little Chiara was with this madman?

In a flash of movement he had the man by his collar, tugging the gag around his throat until he wheezed for breath. Luca brought his face close to his, eyes narrowed in fury.

“Tell me exactly what he said.” He released the pressure of the makeshift noose and Marco gasped for air.

“He said… that he’d been sent by Tommy Shelby… but that he had a proposition for you instead,” he huffed out, breathlessly.

“What kind of proposition?”

“He didn’t say. Just that you should go to Camden on Sunday. He was very clear you shouldn’t come before Sunday because it’s the Jewish Sabbath before then. Went on about it quite a bit actually…”

Luca dropped his grip on the man’s shirt roughly, standing back and running a palm down his face. So Tommy Shelby had tried to take his daughter - that could only be Y/N’s influence. The gypsy fucker, trying to steal his family for his own, was he?!

And now he’d been played by the Jew.

They both had.

The grim sense of satisfaction that Shelby’s plans had been foiled was short-lived. Blood boiled in his veins at the thought of his little girl in the hands of dangerous strangers.

He pointed at Fabio. “Get me Sabini on the phone right now. I need to know everything he does about this figlio di puttana.” Fabio nodded, hurrying to the phone. He turned to Matteo. “Go back to the farmhouse, call me the minute they show up. And if they don’t, find out why.”

He nodded, signalling for one of the others to come with him and headed for the door. Before he made it that far, there was an almighty crash behind him. Spinning on the spot, he saw Luca destroying the room, sweeping everything off the large desk in front of him.

“FIND ME MY FUCKING WIFE!” he roared, face flushed, eyes wild and deadly.

*****

The next morning when you woke, Tommy was still lying next to you, his arm looped gently over your hip, chest against your back. You could tell he was already awake from his breathing but you tried to stay still. You really had to stop ending up in his bed like this. Last night was necessity, you told yourself. Something, anything, to block out the violence in your head, that played every time you closed your eyes.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, lips close to your neck, warm breath sending goosebumps scattering across your skin. Memories of the previous night filled your mind. His mouth, skimming your body, his tongue dragging desperate keening sounds from you as he pushed you over the edge time after time. Begging him not to stop so you wouldn’t have to feel anything other than this immediate, visceral pleasure coursing through you.

Against your will, you felt the ache between your legs. He always did have a way of leaving you yearning for more.

You linked your fingers through the hand on your hip.

“Morning,” you said quietly, leaning into the warmth of him. He took this to be a good sign and he pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. When you didn’t object he continued, lips trailing across toward your neck, up to behind your ear. He sucked lightly on that spot he’d found when you were just fifteen and the noise you’d made nearly him cum in his pants. You made it again now, a soft whine, fingers squeezing his as your ass rubbed against his stiffening cock.

“Tommy…” you breathed, hitching as he nipped the thin skin of your neck, untangling his hand from yours to cup your breast, sweeping his thumb over your already hard nipple. You bit back a moan.

After a moment, a long teasing moment, torturing your sensitive skin, he brought his fingers to your mouth, rubbing across your lips lightly. Your parted them, letting him put two fingers on your tongue. His cock twitched against your ass as you sucked them, soft tongue flicking and curling around them.

He pulled them away, shining with saliva, bringing them down to between your legs. You opened them automatically, twisting so your hand found the back of his head, catching his mouth with yours as his slick fingertips rolled over your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, pulling away, eyes falling closed as he grazed tight circles across the sensitive bundle. His lips brushed yours, soft and full, watching the way your features creased with pleasure as he teased you. He wanted to watch you like this for the rest of his life.

Even though when he told you the news about your daughter there was every chance that life would be considerably shorter than he intended. He should stop this now, be honest with you, but he couldn’t seem to drag his hand away, not when you made such pretty noises for him.

Coating his fingers with your arousal he moved lower, easily pressing two thick fingers into your eager cunt. Your body welcomed him, fluttering walls pulling him deeper as he worked within you, finding the spot that made you go rigid in his arms, with a practiced ease.

“You’re so close already,” he murmured in your ear and you could feel rather than see the smug tug of his lips.

But he wasn’t wrong. It was like the last four years disappeared in a blur, like you hadn’t known true pleasure until you found it here again. He shifted, curling against your side so you were more underneath him, allowing him greater access to drive his fingers into your soaked core. His eyes flamed, blue and lustful, burning into yours as your back arched from the bed, every movement, every touch setting you alight. You dragged his lips to yours in a searing kiss that pulled the very air from his lungs.

Pulling away, head thrown back against the pillow, a desperate whine of his name left your lips. He watched on, closing his lips around round your nipple, teeth grazing the delicate bud, and with the added sensation, the coil inside you snapped. With a breathless, panting cry you came hard all over his hand.

He gently withdrew his fingers, your release dripping down into his palm, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. You pushed your hair away from your forehead, thighs clenching together as you watched him lick them clean.

You moved to straddle him and he shifted to sit up against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. Your wet folds slipped along his achingly hard length and he groaned, large hand pulling your mouth to his by the back of your neck. Sliding a hand between your bodies, you lifted your hips so his tip swept between your parted, glistening lips and with a moan that was lost to his mouth, you sank down on his cock.

Pulling back, foreheads touching you began to ride him, rolling your hips slowly, pushing him even deeper. His eyes, dark with desire, pupils blown so wide his pale irises were almost invisible, were fixed on you as he let you set the pace. The feeling of him, the stretch, the fullness was overwhelming. Like he was made for you.

His hands rested on your bum, helping you as you increased the pace, holding you so he could meet your movements with hard thrusts. Every thick inch of him dragging against your soft, sensitive walls. Within minutes you could feel the coil tightening again, your climax heading towards you like a freight train.

“Cum for me, beautiful, let me feel you,” he murmured breathlessly as your thighs burned with the effort. His hands were driving your rhythm now, lifting you only to slam you down on his cock. “Let go,” he added, seeing you losing your grip.

And you did. Behind your eyelids lights popped and there was a rushing in your ears as your limbs turned to jelly. Bliss, chasing lightening, shot through your veins and you might have been screaming his name or it might have just been inside your head.

Your head was in the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around you, fucking up into your velvety, fluttering cunt until he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. With a grunt of your name, close to your ear he emptied himself inside you.

Pinned in his arms you could feel his heart thudding against his ribs in the same way yours was, the gasp of his breath in your ear. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak so you just let him hold you until, eventually, you recovered enough to try and pull away.

But he didn’t let you get far, cupping the back of your head with his palm. His face was flushed, a rosy glow across his angled cheekbones and down across his chest. A soft smile tugged his lips and you leaned in, catching their cushiony plumpness with your own.

He wanted to tell you he loved you. How he was sorry. How it really had always been you for him. How you always would be.

But you pulled away again, this time climbing from his lap and he could see your shared release, shining on the inside of your thighs.

Without a word you gathered your clothes and headed for the bathroom, to clean yourself up.

*****

You stood in your own room, cleaned up and dressed in the green dress he had bought you, sticking pins in your hair to try and make it more presentable. There were still traces of plaster dust in it but you didn’t have the energy to wash it.

As you worked, you avoided your own eyes.

You didn’t want to feel like this. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. You were clinging on with your fingertips but as you finally looked yourself in the eye, you had to accept it was no good pretending any more.

You were falling in love with him again.

“You stupid woman,” you frowned at your reflection. “One week in his company and you’re really willing to forgive him?”

You stared at yourself in exasperation but there was no denying the truth. The hurt he caused hadn’t gone away; you could still feel the dull ache of it in your chest. But being in his arms, love radiating from him, the way he held you, made love to you with such reverence… there had never been anyone else in the world who could make you feel as safe and understood as him. Even when things with Luca had been at their best, and even though you had told yourself it wasn’t the case at the time, he was always second best to what you had with Tommy.

It would be so easy to stay here, to let him love you again.

“Stop it,” you said out loud harshly, to yourself. “You deserve better than either of them. You need to get back to Chiara and run as far away from them both as you can get.”

Downstairs you heard the kettle whine.

Swallowing, you pinned a final curl into place and went down to him.

He handed you a mug, cigarette dangling between his lips, casually dressed in trousers and just a shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. You felt your insides flutter.

Get. A fucking. Grip.

He placed a plate of toast on the table and you lifted a slice, nibbling on the corner.

“Tom, about last night.. this morning—” you began but he shook his head.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something.”

You frowned. Please don’t tell me you love me, please don’t tell me you love me, you chanted in your head.

“I should have told you but..” He stopped and you saw the clench of his jaw as he steeled himself against whatever he was going to say and you felt your pulse increase. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

“Yesterday, there was another plan. A plan to… You have to understand that I was doing it for you, to help. I thought if I could do this…” He stopped again, staring at the floor, and your mouth was so dry you had to force yourself to swallow the toast crumbs on your tongue.

“A plan for what?” you whispered, setting down your tea because your hands were beginning to shake.

He looked up, guilt written all over his face.

“What plan, Thomas?” you asked more firmly.

“I tried to get her back for you.”

You stared at him, uncomprehendingly. Surely he didn’t mean….

“Chiara,” he added, eyes searching your face. “I knew Luca would likely bring all the men he could muster for the attack which would leave her undefended. I didn’t want to tell you in case I was wrong and we couldn’t get to her.”

Images of men with guns filled your mind. Frederico choking on his own blood. His comrade’s blank, unseeing eyes, a single red hole in his forehead. Imagining your baby in the midst of such carnage.

“Tommy,” you choked, “are you trying to tell me that my child is…” You couldn’t say the word dead.

His face paled. “What? No! No, no, she’s safe,” he said quickly and you sat down with a thump as your legs gave out, relief coursing through you, quickly followed by a weight of disappointment sitting on your chest.

“So they weren’t able to get her?”

He shifted awkwardly. “Not exactly.”

You looked up at him, brows pulled together. “What does that mean? Either they got her or they didn’t?”

He cleared his throat, hands flexing, clearly itching for another cigarette.

“They got her.”

Your confusion deepened, concern beginning to prick the back of your neck.

“So where is she? Why didn’t they bring her here?”

He didn’t reply and a thought struck you. A conversation in the street the previous morning. Had that only been yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Who did you send to get her, Tom?” you whispered, dreading the response, hoping you were wrong.

He cleared his throat again. “Alfie Solomons.”

Your blood ran cold as you stared at him. Surely he couldn’t be that stupid.

“Where is my daughter, Thomas?” The ice in your tone forced his eyes to yours.

“She’s safe,” he reiterated, finally giving in and lighting a fresh smoke. Needing something to do with his hands.

“Safe where?!” you bit out, anger and bile in your throat.

“Safe with Alfie. He was supposed to bring her here but—”

“You fucking IDIOT!” you shouted, temper slipping from your grasp, on your feet once more, marching across to get in his face. “You sent that unreliable, devious, BASTARD to get my CHILD and you stand there and tell me that she’s safe?! He is a MURDERER, Thomas!”

“Alfie would never hurt a child, and he promised me—”

“He PROMISED you?! What, like how he promised you that he’d bring her here?? Oh that’s incredibly reassuring, thank you,” you spat, voice dripping with venomous sarcasm.

“Look, I know you’re angry—”

“You’re fucking right I’m angry!”

“—and you have every right to be, but I honestly thought that because she’s just a kid, he could be trusted.”

“Why is he doing this?” You couldn’t stay still, pacing now, hands ruining your recently pinned hair. Your little girl with that madman.

“Because he thinks he can make a deal with Luca.”

You stopped, turning towards him. “What deal? What kind of deal?”

“Stop Changretta coming for him when he’s done with me, stop him from taking over his businesses.”

You stared at him in confusion. Why on earth would Luca want Alfie Solomon’s businesses?

“He’s not here to kill me and come away empty handed Y/N,” he said gently, seeing your confusion. “You should know better than me that the mafia takes an opportunity when they see one. He was never just coming here for a vendetta.”

All those days he was gone, nights shut up in his study with other men from the family. Avenging Angel and his father was just the impetus they needed to break into England, seize control. How could you not have seen that?

“So you’re telling me that Alfie is going to use my child as fucking leverage?!”

He nodded solemnly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Another thought struck you, mortification chasing it through your veins, burning your skin.

“When did you find out about this? Did someone pop in with a message whilst I was getting dressed, hmm?”

He shifted again and you knew the truth. You always knew him better than anyone.

“I thought not,” you said quietly. He opened his mouth to argue but you continued, rage building inside you.

“You knew last night, didn’t you?” You didn’t wait for an answer. You didn’t have to, it was written all over his face. “You piece of shit. You took me to bed knowing she was missing, knowing I would be angry about it! God! You haven’t fucking changed a bit, have you Thomas? Still do whatever it fucking takes to get your dick wet!”

Your voice was scathing, dripping with acid, burning his skin.

“I mean, you started it last night—” he mumbled, unable to control his stupid smart mouth, and you flew at him, striking him across the face. He barely reacted. He deserved that.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking DARE. I had no idea what you’d done! If I’d have known I wouldn’t have gone within ten feet of you! You bastard! How dare you keep this from me so you could get your end away!”

You glared at him for a moment, breathless with fury, before turning and marching towards the front door, grabbing your handbag from the sideboard. For a moment he thought perhaps you were searching for your gun but you swept on, pulling your coat over your shoulders as you shoved your feet into your shoes.

Without a word, you pulled open the front door, striding out into Watery Lane.

“Y/N!” he called, dragging his boots on as he hurried after you. “Stop! I’m sorry! You’re right, I’m a shit but I was trying to protect you.” He chased you as you stormed down the lane. “C’mon, please, where do you think you’re going?”

You turned in the middle of the quiet street a few paces away from him. Net curtains twitching from the houses around you but you didn’t care. Let them watch.

“Where do you think? I’m going to get my fucking daughter back!”

PART 20

Sorry to stop it there but I’m trying to keep the chapters to manageable lengths! I hope you enjoyed it - please do let me know what you thought in all the usual ways 🤍

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

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#tommy shelby fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #ddd recommends